Speak Kind Words to Yourself
Talk to Yourself like You’re Someone You Value
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Remember when I told you I wasn’t going to throw bible scriptures at you in this book? I lied. But I lied just this one time. John 1:1 says, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” I’m not necessarily a Christian, but this is a fascinating image.
At the start of time, language existed, which implies that God lives within the language we would evolve to use and is inseparable from the power of the divine. I could end this chapter right here because I just laced you with the central idea. But I’ll elaborate. What is language? John 1:1 is a gorgeous sentence, a simple phrase loaded with nuance, so imagine what it could suggest for a second regardless of your religious inclination.
We know that John 1:1 isn’t objectively true from a scientific viewpoint. Right? We know that words didn’t technically exist before everything else, especially without human beings alive to speak them. In the beginning, there were probably trees, some water, rocks, a couple of animals and insects, and a handful of single-celled organisms.
But when we peel apart what our biblical ancestors meant metaphorically, some insights start to surge. Thanks to Isaac Asimov, a renowned science fiction writer who wrote the classic book The Foundation, I’ve learned to understand this quote a little better. Asimov wrote another book called “Asimov’s Guide to the Bible: The New Testament: 002,” In it, he links John 1:1 to the greek philosophy of Thales Miletus. According to Thales, the world isn’t chaotic. Instead, existence has a structure, an implicit balance governed by the rules of nature, and we interrogate these rules thanks to observation, thinking, and most importantly, language. This meant that God fashioned the world through very perceivable constants.
In journeying toward what John 1:1 actually means further, I found only English approximations gave us the phrase “the Word.” Our biblical ancestors were not just referencing “word,” as in the smallest element of a sentence, but “the Word,” with the W capitalized. Paying attention to a slight distinction like this is the difference between Hercule Poirot solving a murder and not, and unless we travel into the Aramaic language, we miss out on what our biblical ancestors were referencing. In the Aramaic, “the Word” translates to “Memra,” not “word,” as in the piece of a sentence. Without boring you with too much of the specifics, “Memra” means consciousness, expansion, matter, and manifestation. It implies a vision held, the process of expression that expands that vision into a central force.
The translation of “Merma” into “the Word” isn’t entirely off-base either. There are a lot of connections we can make if we go further down into the rabbit hole. For example, why wouldn’t the English translators use “consciousness” to define the experience our biblical ancestors intended? As in, “In the beginning, there was consciousness.” In addition, the original Greek translation has “Logos” in place of “Memra,” much closer to the Aramaic than the English approximation. Logos means ‘word,’ but it also denotes the entire rational structure of knowledge. And as more and more philosophers took up the term “Logos,” it came to refer not to some abstract entity but to a thing, even a human being: the person who had created this orderly system of knowledge and principle in the world. Logos, if you will, became personified through language and perception.
Asimov describes that Logos was not interchangeable with God, but merely one power He maintained. God, being spiritual, was extracted from the rational and scientific processes of the world. Why is this important? Because I think there’s a whole picture that has to connect Merma, Logos, and the Word. We have to step away from the masterpiece to notice the details in full view.
Words construct reality. I’m not saying that just because I enjoy writing. But without language, what would reality be, though? Human language has developed with the sole purpose of communicating thoughts and feelings. That’s no small thing. Language is an exceedingly complex and intricate behavior and is one of the capacities that distinguish humans from the rest of the living world. Words enable humans to represent and communicate complex abstract information and tell stories.
Look at how many creatures exist on this planet, but the gift of language is exclusively a human trait. Questions about its origin have perplexed scientists for years. Estimates of the first use of language range enormously, from as late as 50,000 years ago to as early as the beginning of the human genus more than 2 million years ago. So, what is the purpose of it? Could you imagine living a life where words of any kind never crossed your mind?
How well do you communicate with just your eyes or body language? Have you mastered the art of wordless communication? Speaking is essential because we have no other way of detailing how we feel efficiently. Maybe, there are a select few people who know exactly how you feel without speaking a single word. Magical connections exist in life where the frequency is so perfect that a quaint chuckle says as much as a sentence. Human beings are remarkable that way, using all five senses to get our point across, especially when illustrating to someone how much we care about them.
For taste, we can make a loved one their favorite meal. And for touch, a gentle stroke on the head after they’ve had a long day. Regarding smell, we can put on a fragrance they love or, for sight, an outfit. For our sense of hearing, we can say kind things.
Where do you go to receive kind words? I imagine you have a person you go to when you want some external affirmation. Maybe it’s a person who is indescribably kind and uplifting whenever they call you. A call from them constantly changes your day for the better. The question is: why is that feeling external? Because I believe kindness is a revolutionary act, and the most thoughtful person to you should always be yourself. There is nothing we should expect other people to give us that we are not actively giving to ourselves.
People are better at communicating kindly to other people than to themselves. That’s not good. How many people are the voice of wisdom and affirmation for others but lack that voice for themselves? Unless you’re a miserable person, you’ve never called a stranger stupid or worthless. Yet, I imagine you’re hard on yourself in a way that is not productive and probably just crippling.
Not only does language construct reality, but it also creates who we are because we became speaking subjects. Nevertheless, language is also never entirely within our power. Something about words always escapes us. There are 171,476 words in the English language. How many of those do you think you use? On average, an adult uses 20,000 words in their active vocabulary. And to be fluent in English, a non-native speaker uses 10,000 words.
But there are moments you can’t escape with language, like when someone uses a word you’ve never heard before or when another person says something that hurts your feelings. We are somewhat defenseless against language, against its forces, because those forces are constitutive of the way we come to define our experience of the world and ourselves.
Unless we control how we speak to ourselves, we will never gain control over the power of the words others throw our way. When you insult yourself in any way, you deliberately keep yourself subservient to your mind when you should become the master of your evolutionary and divine gifts. To say “I love myself” is to lose sensitivity toward external judgments and double down on the empathetic power of the “I.”
Initially, it might feel performative when speaking kindness to yourself because it is very performative. All communication is performative. There is a vast difficulty expressing what you mean genuinely. Even when comfortable with someone, you’re almost always attempting to be as accurate as possible when speaking, like an actor reading a script. Our “I” is the director in mind, the Self or stand-in for consciousness, who tries to ensure the actor corrects the lines. However, the least performative speech should be the one you’re having with your “I” because what you’re performing or practicing is your ability to remain open to yourself.
When you degrade, curse, and slander yourself, you subordinate your wellbeing to the speech of others because you’re used to hearing it. The mind is the most important real estate you’ll ever own. You don’t need a hostile tenant. And if you’ve catastrophized your internal existence, any external catastrophe matches the rational structure of your perception. The power of countering inner hate speech stops you from repeating it to others and allows you to act responsibly in the face of language, in the space of building your reality.
I f you speak to yourself kindly, you will never even think negatively about anyone. Items like gossip and rumors begin to dissipate in your interests because there’s no reality for those ideas to stand firm.
As I noted earlier, speaking to yourself in a kind manner is self-affirming. For example, think about what happens when you say, “I love you” to someone. The only way to ideally respond to “I love you” is to repeat the phrase word for word, to reiterate it back or amplify it: “I love you, too,” or “I love you more.” Like saying, “I love myself,” saying “I love you” is performative. Have you ever seen a concert or a comedy show, and the performer calls out to the city they’re at to get the crowd on their side? “Man, it feels good to be in Dayton, Ohio!” The crowd always cheers. Most appeals to external love need affirmation, or the feedback loop breaks apart entirely.
Performance in our words has nothing to do with the words themselves but the potential for truth resting beneath their surface. When we say, “I love you,” we’re trying to say, “Everything I feel for you is true.” If this weren’t the case, then it would mean that we don’t feel love for anyone until those three words leave our mouths.
Internal love is a much more potent force than external love because to love externally is to accept being shattered, defenseless, and without narrative recreation, unless suffering exists next to it. Speaking words of love to yourself is an experience that can never result in pain.
So language constitutes the actual manifesting of truth in its exposure to the other forces of consciousness, the self-identifying that it is the essence of the Self that split from God at the beginning of time.
We deserve consideration but allow it to flow from our inner dialogue first. You deserve respect. You are important to other people for reasons you might not fully comprehend, as much as to yourself. Therefore, you, reading this, are morally responsible for speaking to yourself in a way that befits your worthiness. It would help if you talked to yourself the same way you talk to someone you value. The trade-off is that you must act in a way that makes you feel deserving of such kind speech. You can’t be a mean-spirited human being and speak to yourself like a princess. That’s sociopathic bullshit.
Every one of us misses the mark of divine behavior from time to time. If that reality meant that we should be denied kind words entirely, then I’d much rather live in hell. That would not be a world I’d want to live within, nor would it reflect what I believe God would’ve constructed.
To speak kind words to yourself before anyone else means you train yourself to say the most considerate thing possible to yourself in a difficult moment. You must help yourself become a more virtuous, responsible, critically thinking entity without destroying your sense of Self. Choose your spiritual destination, but realize that it starts with defining who you are, refining your character, and articulating Self. That would put you in concert with the Word, Logos, and Memra.