Do you believe in the power of words?
Words stop me in my tracks. Sometimes I’ll catch my breath, lean closer, captivated by the dark, drifting notes that seem to emanate from a weathered page or the eerie blue light of my phone screen at midnight.
Scottish folk magic comprises two parts; the ritual and the spell, the spell being special words uttered over water or fire that give the ritual meaning. In the North East, the horseman’s word is a secret phrase, still closely guarded by ploughmen, that’s said to give the speaker power over beasts.
For a few years now I’ve picked a ‘word of the year’ — a companion in liminality that guides me from one phase to the next. I place my trust in the power and wisdom of this word.
Towards the end of last year, a particular word arrived by my side, like a cat gently nudging its head into my palm. Oh, the electrifying softness of this word! Have you ever run your palm across haircap moss after rainfall? Its feathery damp soothes skin and soul while the vibrant green fires a zap of energy into winter-worn corners.
This word felt like a call to softness. An earthy bed of oakmoss. A way out of the ‘burnout ruts’ I keep falling into.
From a cracked and empty vessel to one that’s whole and overflows.
Normally I keep my word of the year secret. But today I’m sharing it with the writers and kindred spirits who may need to hear it, too:
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