Against the backdrop of ropes and poles, I recited the following poem by Emily Dickinson.
A Word is Dead
A word is dead
when it is said,
I say it just
begins to live
I recited it not once, not twice, but three times, each time more slowly, pausing, so the seminary students could really hear the words, the spaces between the words, allowing for silence, mystery, and reflection.
Afterwards we talked about how language comes alive when we make our voice public, when we say what is inside us and how that generosity contributes to building community. Continue Reading »