About Words

This afternoon I held a smooth stone in my hand that existed before a single word had ever been uttered.

Which is more significant: the smooth stone or the words that describe it?

Dear Mary,


Very often we give too much importance to words. Those who are most devotedly looking for the Truth are frequently the ones most hung up on “This is relative or that is absolute.” How many times have you heard that? I was the world’s worst. As a renegade metaphysician traveling over the universe from sage to Guru to Prince to Practitioner to apostate, no one ever became more entangled in the intellectual concern for words and their precision than I. Pretty soon I found myself with certain expressions I did not dare use in the presence of some people because I was sure my words indicated my level of comprehension. Bosh!


Subtle restrictions of expressions—thousands of them—abound within the judgmental framework of coming-to-comprehend the Light rather than being the Light.


In our studies here in Mountain Brook, the first thing we do is to look into the matter of words, thence to come down from that ridiculously lofty and arid plateau of “absolute” versus “relative.” All words are relative. No word is absolute. The absolute that Isness is exists in a dimension as much beyond words as a melody is more than a sheet of music or the principle of arithmetic more than a numeral.


There is an intellectual aspect to Truth, of course, and words play their part in that but the Real contains an infinity of subtle essences that is more than words, greater than words. The awakening to these is often precluded in our wrestling matches with semantics.

William Samuel —  A Guide to Awareness and Tranquillity

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And when I found my freedom, I found my heart and soul unloosed and dancing in the sweet meadow of love. And I have come to enjoy the beauty, the richness, the bounty, the infinite flow of words. Such pleasure it is. All kinds of words, set the tones and rhythms of my own heart. The holy magic of words. Yes, I found the sweet freedom to express the love I feel and the joy that touches me, right here in the world. Dearest life, this living wonder of such love, such mystery and delight of being here in this marvelous world of mine. Like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz,  “But it wasn’t a dream. It was a place, and you, and you and you … and you were there.” No, it’s not a dream.  No, it’s so much more than we can dream.  It’s all here, no one outside of this life.  Such a marvel it is. I get to live this unfolding joy of self discovery. It is to be like a child again, to be here, living again, fresh and new, alive, real and rich in the wholeness of understanding. Here in the boundless being of my very own self.  And the pure joy it is to string my words like pearls. What pleasure it is to hear the birds singing in my rose garden, to feel the warm beauty of being and to be loved by my sweet world of everlasting, powerful presence.  – Sandy Jones 

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