Sometimes I say too much. I open my mouth, and everything comes falling out faster than I can rein it in. I have this bold and intrepid streak in me, and when I pair that with having an innate need to communicate, the occasional result is a reckless slew of kamikaze words.
Words are hard to take back.
Proverbs 10:31 says, “The mouth of the righteous flows with wisdom, but a perverse tongue will be cut out.”
For the most part, I do a pretty good job of watching my tongue. I value words, and so I am careful with them. I like to use them for good, for storytelling, for communicating pleasant things, for sharing observations, for revealing truth. I rejoice when I am able to find the perfect words to describe something, or articulate something for the very first time, giving me a certain familiarity with myself that I did not have before. But sometimes, the cynical, sardonic side of me commandeers my train of thought, and all of a sudden, I have said too much. I have been too harsh, gone too far.
As one who loves to write – prose and verse – I know that I must continue to feel and experience and share and convey and transmit and speak. I have to be willing to communicate the good and the bad, the easy and the difficult, the beautiful and the dark. But how can I do that – stay true to what I believe is a calling on my life to be a communicator of sorts – and still be wise with what I say?
It’s a fine line. And sometimes I’m not very good at walking it.