Helping And Healing with Word Power - By R. Gary Raham
When I was a child my mother confided in me that she had once visited a fortune teller at a carnival. The mystic said that my mother would have children. One of them would become famous. At the time of this revelation I had two siblings. My sister and brother were eighteen and sixteen years my senior, respectively. Fame didn’t seem likely in their futures, so I thought maybe that future famous child could be me.
I don’t consider myself famous, but such is the power of words that her revelation made me feel that I could be. Her words shaped pathways in my mind that encouraged me to do the best that I could in school and learn the crafts of writing and illustrating that I so enjoyed. That’s why I dedicated my first published novel to my mother and her word-ly gift.
Someone once described the power of storytelling as non-invasive brain surgery. That metaphor struck a chord with me because the evidence for its truth seems self-evident. Politicians and preachers mesmerize us with their world (and out-of-this-world) views. Teachers shape our thinking with lessons from the past and dreams of futures-to-be. And those of us who write know that sometimes we reach kindred souls with the visions we create. We somehow alter neuronal linkages in their minds.
As a long-time member of several writing groups, I also know the power of words to heal. We re-live past traumas and joys—changing names and places and some details to protect the innocent (and guilty). The act of telling stories somehow flushes away some of the frustrations of being human. Not only do we often save the expense of going to therapy, but we may even sell our tales so that others can heal as well. As human beings we are each truly unique, but the strands of DNA that mold our humanness differ by less than 1%. We mostly suffer and celebrate and learn in similar ways.
Of course, powerful things can hurt as well as help. I cringe when I hear a parent call their child (or mate) stupid or worthless. Those words alter neuronal linkages in brains as well. Those transformations sometimes reverberate through several generations unless we make a conscious effort to change the message. My wife grew up in a family where she lost both parents at an early age. She described angry words flying back and forth like bullets as a source of trauma that sometimes still returns. Yet she made a conscious effort to abort flinging angry words around as we raised our girls. Those girls both complimented us recently on our parenting skills, which is gratifying—even though at the time we felt we were just muddling along like parents everywhere.
Language and writing are truly human super powers. Use them carefully. Use them to help and heal rather than hurt, and the love that results will echo through generations to come.
Gary Raham is a teacher, graphic artist, illustrator, and writer. He has authored and illustrated two natural history books, and writes science articles for publications such as Highlights for Children. He lives with his family in Colorado
