15 True Stories from the Oak

Where the Words Come From

Where do they indeed, where do anybody’s words come from. There was a suspicion I had long ago, that my words started right next to my heart, in a place secure and untouched. They would blossom in the light of my gaze, and explode out of my mouth to the surrounding world.

No, they don’t live next to my heart, though, that is not where I pluck the words of my songs.I thought they came from somewhere rather deeper, perhaps near the stomach, in the pit of the spine, deep away from the mouth. But then I dug deep in that area of myself, and found not my source but an empty, yet beautiful, space. I looked around high and low, under rocks, and beneath the sun, but I remained confused. If the words did not come from me, or from some oddly buried stone, then where did they come from?

I asked a person, “where do my words come from?” Rather matter of factly they responded, “From your throat, from your lungs, and out through your mouth. Your tongue aids the process as well.”

No no! It could not be. Such simple organs as that cannot link such delicate phrases as I have others pronounce with great pride. My mind, then? Is this where these odd little phrases from nooks and crannies come? I looked there too, scouring the recesses of my mind, but found only memories old and soggy. New life does not come from old, I decided and went on searching.

It is on a day like this I came to sit beneath a tree, and an acorn plopped me on my head from above. That was when it hit me. I had been looking in the door, under rocks and within my crevices for the secret source that laid not hidden but blatantly obvious. Life is growth, and growth is living. My words come from none other than my overpowering and simultaneous urge to continue to grow forever into infinity. They come from you, the bundles of energy which grow along side me, the seeds we have planted in the earth, but above all from the constant striving to go higher, be better. Not from any deep and concealed place, down low and dark, but from up high, the hand reaching for the sun touches the sentences whispered with love and sincerity.