There’s Power In The Pen
Writing my way through the pain
The Bible is called the Word of God — or sometimes just, The Word.
“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”
— John 1:1
The fourteenth verse of the book of John 1 reads, “And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, (and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father,) full of grace and truth.”
The Bible says Jesus is “The Word.” In short, it means Jesus was the expression of the invisible God.
Both the written and spoken word have the power to influence others. This is why writing is such a great tool.
It’s not just a random arrangement of letters on a page. No, words have the power to educate, influence, move people emotionally, and bring about radical change.
Simply put, the word has power:
“For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.”
The word in the Bible judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart by acting as a mirror for our soul. For example, St Paul said in the book of Romans, it was the law that showed him his sin.
“I would never have known that coveting is wrong if the law had not said, “You must not covet.” (Romans 7:7)
As a Christian, I believe the Bible is the inspired word of God and that the words are alive and active, but even if you are not a Christian, you probably agree that words do carry power.
When we were kids if someone called us horrible names, me and my brothers would shout back at the top of our lungs…
“Sticks and stone may break my bones
But names can never hurt me.”
But, really — it wasn’t true, because mean words do hurt us. They have the power to hurt us deeply. We were just pretending not to care, but words can break us.
They have the power to bring a person down, but, equally, they have the power to lift us up. So, I must choose my words carefully.
Writers inspire— it’s a gift, and so I want to learn this craft well. Sometimes, I’m so impatient, not willing to put the time and effort in to create what I really want to create.
My rebellious teenage self doesn’t want to focus and get into the tedious task of writing.
I’m a new writer, so clearly I’ll have to plow my way through all this inner resistance. It’s painful, I won’t deny it as it shows me how undisciplined I can be.
Yet, I want to produce good work that inspires others and is helpful. But, I also want instant results, which causes me inner conflict.
I need my inner child to come on board with me when I write. She only likes parts of it.. like creating a headline or looking for a nice image, but she gets frustrated with the process.
This post was inspired by an article by Mario López-Goicoechea published on March 10th, “When Writers Have to Subvert the Rules (if any) of Writing. No need for a beginning, middle, and end, when the world around us has been turned upside down.”
His articles get me thinking long after I’ve read them, and I’m grateful for this. To me, it’s a sign of good writing when the message stays with me and encourages me to examine myself. His writing irritates me enough sometimes, to wake me up.
It must be the magic he has in that pen of his. I’m not sure if he means to irritate, but this article stirred me up because I often want to avoid reality.
I want to run from Covid and every other mess that’s going on right now. But it makes much more sense to take Mario López-Goicoechea’s approach:
“My approach would be to see the times we live as an opportunity to grieve. Grief is both a human reaction and a spur to an artist, and as creators, we belong to that category, too.”
— Mario López-Goicoechea
An opportunity to grieve
I love the way he put it in the form of an invitation —something beneficial. If I would only take the time to see this for what it really is, a time of great loss, a time of mourning.
We all feel it, so why run from it? Why not sit with it instead? I find it uncomfortable, but I am slow to catch up as I was in Vietnam where life is, pretty much, going on as normal.
Here in Portugal, there is little life on the streets. The silence is deafening. It’s so quiet at night that it unnerves me, yet when I was in Ho Chi Minh City, I was desperately praying for silence.
The constant hum of motorbikes, traders, and so many people was killing me and now, with my prayers answered, I miss the noise.
But, soon I will adjust and hopefully see it as an opportunity to grieve.
In his article, he referred to Elizabeth Kübler-Ross’s famous model of the five stages of grief. I know it well as I studied it in nursing, and I have cared for many dying patients.
At one period in my career, I chose to work in a hospice to see could I learn more about death and dying. I was interested in the dying process as I knew it terrified me.
When I was working on the medical wards, we would often have to layout patients so their families could pay their respects. I found this so difficult and in my immaturity, I used to feel like laughing.
Of course, I knew it was inappropriate to giggle when doing such a task, so I’d hold it in or share my feelings with my colleagues. But, they understood, as fear has a funny way of showing up.
Loss is heart-wrenching. We all like to think that we will never die and that things will never change, but deep down we know that both are inevitable.
So I pondered more on Mario’s article and was struck by this:
“…sometimes we remain in a perpetual anger mode and very often we’re reluctant to admit we’re depressed.”
Firstly, it was good to acknowledge that I am going through a grieving process. It’s actually a relief to give it a name. We are all experiencing great loss right now and it’s painful.
I do feel the anger. We have been conditioned in society to see anger as a bad emotion, especially for girls (women). There’s a sense of shame in me for feeling angry, especially as it’s constant — like I can’t rub it out.
It makes me feel uncomfortable as I fear my words will be toxic to the environment if I share them, as I’ve been trained to be sweet (in public). This is probably why writing is posing a challenge for me too.
But, any woman will tell you that we are far from sweet all the time. Many women experience deep rage. I hope I don’t have deep rage, but I am willing to explore the depths of my being because, after all, isn’t that what the true writers do?
I somehow believed writers had a private life, but writing is far from private if you put it out there. The act of writing may be private, but after that, who knows what could happen? I suppose I’ll have to learn to let that go too.
My other option is to numb out and I don’t want to do that. I’ve seen what that looks like and it is a death in itself.
Life is found in walking through our pain, not around it — no matter how hard that might be.
So, I think I will follow Mario López-Goicoechea’s suggestion to see this time as an opportunity to grieve and use this “powerful weapon” I have:
— “a blank page.”
