Lately, something has been gnawing at me about the use of some words in our lexicon, and I’ve been trying to figure out why. Words and phrases flow in and out of vogue; it’s probably been like that since the beginning of language. I myself have seen more than a handful of faddish terms come and go thus far in my life without it troubling me in the least, so why now are some words getting under my skin, so much so that I refuse to use these particular expressions? In part, admittedly my natural inclination skews more classical than trendy. But that alone is not enough to bother me.
It came to me the other day while I was with my husband, Andrea, and up on my soapbox railing against one such term. (It’s primarily Andrea I dwell on such matters with. Lucky him.) We were driving—so he was a captive audience—and I frankly don’t remember what got me going, but as I was rattling off my ire, I had a moment of clarity.
Using language incorrectly not only diminishes our ability to communicate accurately with others, it also influences our own actions. While that is worthy of an entire post in and of itself, my lightbulb moment was that these seemingly innocuous word crutches cultivate the opposite of mindfulness. They encourage us to be lackadaisical. Articulating ideas and emotions deliberately and specifically requires thoughtful exploration—it stretches the depth of our thinking every time we speak, with far-reaching consequences.
Training the intentionality muscle
Once upon a time, Andrea and I had a chocolate lab named Teggio (after a river in Portugal…another story) and he was a neurotic mess of a dog. Poor guy. We loved him to pieces, but he had issues. One of the most pressing was separation anxiety, which propelled him to be a nuisance barker when we were at work. After months of fielding angry complaints from neighbors, we sent him to an intense 10-week obedience training boot camp.
At first, I didn’t understand how drilling the simple commands of “sit,” “stay,” ”heel,” and “come” were going to help with barking. But it wasn't merely learning commands, it was cultivating discipline; a control that extended into all aspects of his behavior. Interestingly, the lessons learned from that education with our wayward lab have stayed with us for decades.
Just like obedience training developed overall control in Teggio, becoming more mindful of the words we use cultivates intentionality that permeates every corner of our lives. I touched on the necessity of being intentional to bring about powerful life changes in Habit Stacking (in the sixth installment of Lightbulbs & Pearls). Intentionality is the key to harnessing the power to make choices. Choices that make up the sum of our total. Choices that dictate how we live, and how we age.
Inauthentic times call for intentional choices
Life has strayed and evolved so far from what was intended, the need to be intentional is greater than ever before. From the food we eat, to the way we move, to the onslaught of information that we have to sift through, to even the noise that envelopes us daily—the way we live is almost completely opposite from our body’s natural design.
For instance, centuries ago simply getting water required an extraordinary amount of effort and movement. Today, it takes minuscule thought, let alone movement…which means that we need to replace that action with exercise. We most likely had to plant, tend, and harvest our food, which was grown in chemical-free, fertile, mineral-rich soil. Now, with the click of a button, we buy produce laden with pesticides, monocropped in soil devoid of nutrients...so we need to supplement with vitamins to counterbalance what was once pure and natural.
I believe many of the ills that we experience today, both physical and mental, are rooted in the unnatural lives we lead. While we can’t turn back the clock, we can mitigate and balance many of the adverse effects of the world we’ve grown accustomed to with intentional choices.
Intentional mind shifts
It’s not easy making choices at every step and turn…it can be daunting and tiresome. I get it. It’s so much easier to go with the flow. Cultivating the discipline of intention requires that making wise choices is always top of mind. The intention to be healthier. The intention to be a better person. The intention to live our best life.
I was listening to an interview of Michael Easter, author of The Comfort Crisis, who spoke about nutrition wunderkind Dr. Trevor Kashey whose belief in diet is more about why a person eats rather than specifically what. Interestingly similar to my intention theory, his program’s cornerstone is “Nutritional Cognition,” which focuses on programming the brain to make the correct nutritional choices. Intentionality begets control.
Quick story. I was recently on a business trip and I knew that I would not have control of the lunch that was ordered for the group. So I prepared and packed food I could eat. It took planning and intentionality—and admittedly was a bit of work—but I felt better eating food that would fuel me and I was glad to have intentionally made the effort.
Last story. When Andrea was in college, he was complaining to his dad about school life in general…all the things he had to do. His dad stopped him and told him to replace “have to” with “get to.” An intentional mind shift.
Not totally unrelated
So what are the words that I eschew? Fair warning, if you take offense easily, you may want to skip over the next paragraph! (But the third has merit.) Please know I honestly don’t disparage people who use these words; a couple of my dearest friends use them regularly and I don’t give it a second thought and love them just the same. I simply choose different words.
Here goes. First up is the omnipresent: “awesome.” I will go out on a limb and say it is rarely used correctly, such as when gazing up at Yosemite’s majestic, massive Half Dome. It has been demoted from a superlative to an exclamation of the mundane. “Would you like fries with that?” “Awesome!” Good heavens. Up next: “hack.” It sounds painful and makes me wince. Once used as a pejorative—as in, “He’s a hack”— the word has now been spun to mean a good shortcut. I don’t get it. It still sounds negative, crass, and painful. I can’t say it. Then the ultra-trendy: “lean in.” For me, leaning is passive, weak, and inactive. But I know a lot of smart people who use the phrase. It may just me, but all these expressions strike me as prosaic.
Rounding it out is my soapbox: “trigger.” Trigger is an unstoppable reaction. When used in today’s language, it absolves people of responsibility over their emotional selves. Personal agency is abdicated to the all-powerful, uncontrollable response. If something riles me, I don’t simply dismiss it as “being triggered,” I examine the reasons why and try to address the root cause so it doesn’t go on a rinse-and-repeat cycle. Hmmmm, I see the stumbling block: taking responsibility is not as easy as succumbing to the trigger. It requires much more stretching, self-examination, and ultimately control. Dare I humbly suggest this control could shore up other areas of life? Something to consider.
Live intentionally
Does living with intention hinge solely on how we speak? Of course not. That's simply one tool in the training regime, but it’s a good place to start. Like our errant dog, learning discipline in one area of our lives can have far-reaching consequences. Being intentional in our language makes us more deliberate in our choice of words...and our choice of words ultimately affects the way we think...which guides our actions. If we want to develop a mindset to “live well, age great”—let’s start by using our words.
I see you've intentionally stretched your mind to string those prosaic terms together...great job! No triggers here. Thank you for your kind words.
I love Camille's regular posts. They are like an exquisite glass of wine that I want to sip slowly to experience the fullest pleasure. I can easily reflect and journal about the wisdom in her writing and how I can become more intentional, one day at a time. I think her writing is "awesome", "a great life hack", and it gives me something to "lean into". I wonder if I might have "triggered" her. (Just kidding!)