Hey, Justyna, sorry I didn't respond to your Note asking readers about their relationship with words. Life has me buzzing around a bit at the moment. One thought that I had wanted to share was a favorite book: The Storytelling Animal: How Stories Make Us Human, by Jonathan Gatchall. I really enjoyed this book; read it twice, in fact, but it's been some years, so I can't really get more specific about it.
I enjoyed your thoughts on words, and especially on holding onto words and teachings, allowing them to weigh you down, instead of releasing them. It sort of reminds me of some feelings that are starting to arise around my meditation group. The words related to Buddhism are starting to feel old and tired to me: if I hear "non-self" one more time.... 😊
Hi Don! No worries at all. I did hope to hear your thoughts before I sat down to write this essay, but it’s just as good to hear them now :)
Thank you for the book recommendation; I’ve just looked it up, and it does sound very interesting indeed, so I’ve added it to my (ever-expanding) reading list.
I'm glad you enjoyed reading this essay, and I definitely understand where you're coming from. I also try to maintain a healthy distance from words, especially those “less practical” ones that attempt to point to more elusive and abstract concepts, like the non-self you mention, or mindfulness, enlightenment, emptiness, ego, and so on. I try to touch them only as much as you might come in contact with a stone you use to spring yourself from as you jump over a stream on a walk. I much prefer to rest in the silence between these words.
Beautiful thoughts, Justyna. I shall think of them next time I cross a stream. And more importantly, I will think of the import of words on my general state of mind. 🙂
You ask how tight is my grip? At 73, I never want to hold things, people, feelings, plans-anything- too tightly because that hurts. Equally, now I hold in my open hands almost all that comes at me… maybe for a too-hot moment, maybe for years, but never forever. You correctly speak of stories which become legacies, and those which scatter away over time.
Dear Sara, I really appreciate your reflection. It reminds me of something I wrote a few essays back—when we think our hands are empty, we might feel sorrow for what they’ve lost their grip on, and yet, it's when they aren’t holding onto anything that they are finally ready to truly receive.
Thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts with us!
i greatly appreciate the second one, because my answer to the first one is is "how long do you have?" and then "how long do i have?" and the answer to MY second question is "not long enough to fully explore the potentially infinite answer to your first one."
my relationship to words is powerful, and the tightness of my grip is something i am ever working on loosening, and i appreciate the question which i have taken as an invitation to do so.
Thank you so much for your kind words and for sharing your insightful reflections!
I love your response to the questions, it made me smile :) What you write here is very true—the relationship we each have with words is indeed a lifelong exploration, one that stretches beyond time and invites us into endless discovery.
And I think you’ve put it beautifully: perhaps it's not about having enough time to find the answer but rather about allowing ourselves to keep loosening that grip bit by bit and seeing what unfolds when we do.
I’m grateful that the questions resonated with you and that you’ve accepted the invitation to reflect on them. Thank you for taking the time to share your thoughts, and for being part of this ongoing conversation!
Thank you so much, Lee! I'm so pleased to know you enjoyed reading my words and that they nourished you 🤍 I hope you allowed yourself to let them go, too, once they fulfilled their role :)
Hey, Justyna, sorry I didn't respond to your Note asking readers about their relationship with words. Life has me buzzing around a bit at the moment. One thought that I had wanted to share was a favorite book: The Storytelling Animal: How Stories Make Us Human, by Jonathan Gatchall. I really enjoyed this book; read it twice, in fact, but it's been some years, so I can't really get more specific about it.
I enjoyed your thoughts on words, and especially on holding onto words and teachings, allowing them to weigh you down, instead of releasing them. It sort of reminds me of some feelings that are starting to arise around my meditation group. The words related to Buddhism are starting to feel old and tired to me: if I hear "non-self" one more time.... 😊
Hi Don! No worries at all. I did hope to hear your thoughts before I sat down to write this essay, but it’s just as good to hear them now :)
Thank you for the book recommendation; I’ve just looked it up, and it does sound very interesting indeed, so I’ve added it to my (ever-expanding) reading list.
I'm glad you enjoyed reading this essay, and I definitely understand where you're coming from. I also try to maintain a healthy distance from words, especially those “less practical” ones that attempt to point to more elusive and abstract concepts, like the non-self you mention, or mindfulness, enlightenment, emptiness, ego, and so on. I try to touch them only as much as you might come in contact with a stone you use to spring yourself from as you jump over a stream on a walk. I much prefer to rest in the silence between these words.
Beautiful thoughts, Justyna. I shall think of them next time I cross a stream. And more importantly, I will think of the import of words on my general state of mind. 🙂
You ask how tight is my grip? At 73, I never want to hold things, people, feelings, plans-anything- too tightly because that hurts. Equally, now I hold in my open hands almost all that comes at me… maybe for a too-hot moment, maybe for years, but never forever. You correctly speak of stories which become legacies, and those which scatter away over time.
Dear Sara, I really appreciate your reflection. It reminds me of something I wrote a few essays back—when we think our hands are empty, we might feel sorrow for what they’ve lost their grip on, and yet, it's when they aren’t holding onto anything that they are finally ready to truly receive.
Thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts with us!
dear justyna,
a beautiful piece as always.
thank you for these two questions:
"What’s your relationship with words?"
and
"How tight is your grip?"
i greatly appreciate the second one, because my answer to the first one is is "how long do you have?" and then "how long do i have?" and the answer to MY second question is "not long enough to fully explore the potentially infinite answer to your first one."
my relationship to words is powerful, and the tightness of my grip is something i am ever working on loosening, and i appreciate the question which i have taken as an invitation to do so.
thank you for asking!
love
myq
Dear Myq,
Thank you so much for your kind words and for sharing your insightful reflections!
I love your response to the questions, it made me smile :) What you write here is very true—the relationship we each have with words is indeed a lifelong exploration, one that stretches beyond time and invites us into endless discovery.
And I think you’ve put it beautifully: perhaps it's not about having enough time to find the answer but rather about allowing ourselves to keep loosening that grip bit by bit and seeing what unfolds when we do.
I’m grateful that the questions resonated with you and that you’ve accepted the invitation to reflect on them. Thank you for taking the time to share your thoughts, and for being part of this ongoing conversation!
Warmly,
Justyna
Absolutely beautiful. Thank you for these thoughtful words. My soul is nourished.
Thank you so much, Lee! I'm so pleased to know you enjoyed reading my words and that they nourished you 🤍 I hope you allowed yourself to let them go, too, once they fulfilled their role :)