The written word has the magical power of transferring thoughts from one person’s brain into another’s – over distance and time. […] Even people who were dead. […] This felt like a super power. It still does. […] Use your words.*
It’s good that you’re feeling bored. Bored is an actual feeling. Bored can prompt forward motion. Bored is the thing that happens before you choose to entertain yourself. Bored is what empty space feels like, and you can use that empty space to go do something important. […] I’m glad you’re feeling bored, and now we’re excited to see what you’re going to go do about it.**
Our lives are full of words.
Words we have gathered over our lifetimes.
Many of these words we have in common, but some are very special words to us alone. They make us come alive with excitement, provoking our imaginations, forming possibilities we’re then impelled to pursue.
Even though others may use the same words – unless we’ve made up our own – they hold a greater meaning to us because they’re linked to and explain our curiosity, imagining and creativity.
These are our lexicons, the words we need to use.
And if we’re bored – that feeling we have just before we get up and do something challenging – our words can be the means by which we get ourselves moving. We don’t need anybody else to do this for us because the reality of who we are is that we are all able to begin forming something out of nothing.
Why not start gathering your special words into one place, providing each with a short description – the world each word is to you (words are never only words)?
And look out for new ones, play with them, keep some, leave others, like coruscating,^ which I came across today.
(*From Ev Williams‘ letter to young readers in Maria Popova and Claudia Bedrick’s A Velocity of Being.)
(**From Seth Godin’s blog: Thoughts on “I’m bored.”)
(^coruscating/ˈkɒrəskeɪtɪŋ/ 1. flashing; sparkling.”a coruscating kaleidoscope of colours” 2. severely critical; scathing.”his coruscating attack on the Prime Minister”)