Under the Oaks: Mean Words Don't Work

What we're really after.

Welcome to Under the Oaks, a quiet place to sit and read in the Land of Oaks and Roses.

I didn’t want to write anything about the election. I’m tired (aren’t you?) And this isn’t a political newsletter. My pretty gift guides are patiently waiting for me, and it would be easier to go there instead of here. But, the unease is still so palpable. I want this to be a place of comfort, friendship, beauty, retreat. And, I don’t want to create those things from a place of ignoring what’s hard. I want to create them by moving through, together.

When I need good lessons, motherhood serves them up (a little too often if you ask me.) Last week, my daughter built this car out of magna-tiles. She was so pleased until my 2-year-old ran over and snatched it out of her hands. In reaction, she growled at him and screamed a string of mean words. My son quickly tightened his grip on the car, ran away from her and threw it down the stairs. My daughter looked at me in horror as her cool car broke into scattered pieces on the steps. I gave her a hug and said, “mean words don’t work.” She already knew what I was going to say because we learn this lesson together all the time. We’ve learned that growling doesn’t get the car back. It gets a house of growlers. When I lose it, my daughter knows to remind me too: “moooom, mean words don’t work.” It’s always true. And I think it’s a good lesson for this American moment we find ourselves in.

I don’t want to confuse mean words and strong words. We need strong words. We need loud words. Like when your toddler is about to scooter into traffic. Or when someone is going to cause harm. Give it all you got. Get them to freeze. Get them to stop. A strong, loud yell will get my toddler to freeze before oncoming traffic (important!) But, what if the same thing happens again on the next block? And the one after that? The goal isn’t to be yelling before every crosswalk (although this does explain our exhaustion.) What we’re really after is growth, wisdom, understanding. How do we get there? Where do we start when we don’t even agree on what’s right and wrong?

The answer feels undesirable but I think it’s connection. I think it’s proximity to each other. It’s hard to create understanding from far away. I’ve only gotten anyone in my life to change by being more of the thing I want them to be myself, and then staying close enough for them to experience it (this is something I really try to apply in my marriage too.) Being this thing ourselves, this better thing, matters so much. And it’s a big ask in a world that feels as harsh as it does right now. How do we do it?

“Whenever you are creating beauty around you, you are restoring your own soul,” Alice Walker said. “Put yourself in the way of beauty,”

Cheryl Strayed

's mom told us. There’s this American sentiment that beauty is frivolous. Something most of us don’t have time for. But, beauty for me is actually tied to discipline. I find it by waking up early. I find it by walking outside everyday. It takes discipline to write something beautiful when life is ugly. I think the way we constantly, stubbornly, keep reaching for a more beautiful life is the way we can be this better thing too. Because when we’re in beauty, our words get kinder. We soften. That’s what happened to me this week. I went to beautiful places, watched a beautiful movie, ate beautiful food, flipped through this beautiful coffee table book. And, most importantly, I put myself in close proximity to people who have the kind of beauty I want more of right now. Those people are my hopeful, optimistic, awe-filled kids. My husband is super beautiful and that doesn’t hurt either. In all this beauty, this newsletter went from angry to this. I hope it keeps me close to anyone still reading, no matter who they voted for. Because my beauty is interconnected with yours. My growth and understanding too. There, that better place we all want to go, is a place we can only go to together.

With much love,

Olivia

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