In many spiritual traditions, the world was brought into being through a single word. If we are made in that divine image, then our speech is our most creative—and destructive—power.
I learned this lesson the hard way in school when I told an inappropriate joke. To this day, I don’t know what motivated me to do it. For a fleeting second, the room erupted in laughter, and I felt the hollow thrill of being “cool.” But that validation vanished the moment I realized my words had been heard by someone who had every right to be offended. In an instant, I felt lower than dirt. Though I later apologized in private, I never truly moved past the realization of how cruel I had been just for a few laughs.
That immediate laughter was a false idol—a temporary high that dissolved when I saw the reflection of my words in the eyes of the person I hurt. That “lower than dirt” feeling wasn’t merely guilt; it was my conscience—the “still, small voice”—correcting my course and reminding me that our spirits are designed for connection, not exclusion.
We often forget that words never truly disappear; they create a permanent ripple in the ether. Long after the air goes silent, the energetic imprint of a cruel word remains in the memory of the hearer and the character of the speaker. I have come to hope that carrying this memory for five decades is not a burden of shame, but a lasting reminder.
While “Freedom of Speech” is a civic right, the righteousness of speech is a spiritual discipline. Having the “right” to speak does not grant us permission to wound. True maturity is the transition from asking, “Can I say this?” to asking, “Should I say this?” It is the humble realization that while the Constitution protects us from the government, it cannot protect us from the consequences of our own cruelty.
In the silence between a thought and a word, there is a holy space where the Divine resides. When we rush through that space to chase a laugh or seek status, we bypass our own divinity. As King Charles recently reminded us, “Words matter.” His words echo the ancient truth that life and death are held in the power of the tongue. We are the gatekeepers of our own hearts; may we only open the gates to let out what is worthy of the light.
this resonates with me….I cringe when I remember something “funny” I said about, or to someone to get a laugh. Having been on the other end of it, I’ve experienced the hurt from it as well.
I’ve since apologized to those I remember for my past behavior and like you, am trying my hardest to think before I speak.
Thanks Missy.