You Say You Want to Change the World?

It's mesmerizing that a few simple words, when paired with the fervency of the human spirit, can truly change the world.


No, I am not suggesting that they literally shake the foundations of the earth - we'll leave that up to aliens, asteroids, and - dare I say it - atomic bombs. But words do have an incredible power to change a silly little thing we call perception - and as our perceptions are changed, our passions are stirred, which eventually boil over into change.


Granted, at times this change is arguably for the worst, as in the example of the French Revolution. Robespierre used the atomic bomb of his rhetoric to infuse the mistreated of France with an urgency to destroy the current (and all future) monarchy. But 20,000 deaths later, we wonder if Robespierre should have spared this make-shift Hiroshima and simply kept his mouth shut.


As with everything in our humanity, though, inspiration is bound to occasionally backfire. Examples like Robespierre cannot and should not keep us from using this amazing, simple power to influence change. One of the greatest change-producers (and I am not talking about a mint, here) of all time explained it this way, "In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends." Martin Luther King Jr. didn't spare his words, and if we truly want to make the world a better place... we shouldn't either.


Here's the real reason I started writing this blog post: My beautiful, fun-loving, intelligent, 21-year old cousin Johanna was recently diagnosed with Stage IV lung and arm cancer. She, of all people, does not deserve to have her entire future crash in a matter of a few months. But reality, unfortunately, is much harsher than loving Jo is. Although I undoubtedly mulled over her diagnosis, I didn't cry over it. (And I cry over everything.) I pushed it to the back of my mind because it was too painful to consider losing her. And, from a selfish perspective, it was too hard to think that her loss of vitality could have been - and someday could be - mine.


It wasn't until I read her boyfriend's heartfelt tribute to Johanna's strength that I started crying. Not a little trickle, oh no. I am sitting at a table in a coffee shop bawling my eyes out. His words, together with his enduring love for my cousin, is what brought me to this place of stirred emotion and passion, which lifts me out of apathy and into a desire to make her life a little better. To join the fight against this terrible annihilator we call cancer, to make the world a better place - or, at least, Johanna's world.


 I am no MLK. My words here aren't much. But if I can inspire just one person who reads this to start using yours, I've been worthwhile.


 You should have learned by now to never trust science fiction. Don't leave it to extraterrestrials to crash into earth and shake our foundations.