But! Yet I Cried.

You ain’t nothing but a hound dog

Crying all the time

You ain’t never caught a rabbit and

You ain’t no friend of mine.

Oh The Pain Of Rejection!

What a tune to which to march--no drums, no guitar, no rhythm section, but what a beat down.  How many young folk or people in general are told and have been told repeatedly, you are worthless and won’t amount to dung?

‘Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me’.

A message fired from a poison pen, “you don’t measure up to my expectations, nor are you pleasing to me”. Words spoken from the lips of a should-be nurturer turned profaner. Reducing a mind to a state of worthlessness, an empty placeholder, a state of nothingness, zero, a lonely place. What a state in which to be.  This state is unique--it’s a place where only someone you care about can sentence you. Go to your room, you little stupid…!

‘Sticks and stone may break my bones but words can never hurt me’. But! Yet I cried.

Looking back, I can remember smashing a finger or stumping a toe; even having a nail stuck in my foot. Someone will read this article and perhaps nod in agreement. I no longer feel the pain of those experiences but I remember words that were spoken as if it was yesterday--words that were painful.

‘Sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me’

But! Still I cried----tears flowing down a pain stricken face into a pillow that provides no comfort. A placeholder—holding up a head buried deep in the depths of despair, looking for a way out of an Incarcerated Mind. A mind muddled, stuck like an elevator between floors. So much noise! But no movement. Caught in the vice grips of life’s hand-me-downs. Like a runner side-lined by a broken leg unable to contribute, reduced to a placeholder.

{The tongue, such a small thing, but boasts great power.}

A young man shared with me one of his childhood experiences. When he was eight several of his friends were playing hide and seek. One of the kids went into his house to hide.  After counting to ten Josh yelled, “ready or not here I come”.  As Josh ran around his friend’s trailer, the door flew open nearly taking the top of Josh’s head off.  Josh’s mother rushed him to the emergency room as the blood streamed down his face. A frightened and concerned mother was asked, “Mommy am I going to die”?  No! Son you’re going to be all right.  Josh said, “I believed her”.  The same way that boy or girl believed his/her parent(s) when told ‘you won’t amount to anything.’ The power of life and death is in the tongue.

It matter’s how and what we say to our children and to our loved ones. The tongue is to the Spirit as what the placenta is to the fetus. The placenta is the feeder of life growing inside the mother. Words are the feeder of the Spirit in human beings.  One nourishes the inner and the other the outer. Cereals take care of the body, but words take care of the spirit. Spirit—that non-physical part of a person, which is the seat of emotions and character. 

Human Being—sounds like two parts: the inner and the outer. The Being part of man, that is the spirit, is what gives life and determines the quality of life one will have. It is the essential part of man. Simply put, no spirit, no life.  Therefore man does not live by bread alone.

Man’s life is shaped by what’s fed into his spirit--Words. Have you checked your tongue today?

Sticks And Stones May Break My Bones, But Words Will Never Hurt Me. But! Yet I cried.

‘You are what you think’.

It’s time to free

The Incarcerated Mind.