What do you want to say?

Do you ever wish you could say something but know it wouldn’t be helpful, appropriate, or received well? I’d venture a guess that we all have some things with our souls that are unexpressed, but we’d love the opportunity to at least speak them out, even if it were to an empty forest. What do you want to say?

As a typewriter business owner, on occasion, I’ve put out a vintage typewriter in a public place for anyone to type whatever they wanted. It’s something that people love, as typewriters are a novelty, and I enjoy the delight I see on every person’s face. However, from the very beginning, I noticed something unexpected: a public typewriter, with its anonymity, became a subconscious call to say something one would be unlikely to say in person. It’s as if a blank piece of paper in a public place gave them the courage to say what they’ve been craving to speak, but never felt the freedom to do so.

This is also reflected in a book titled “Notes From A Public Typewriter,” written and compiled by a bookstore owner who set up a public typewriter in his shop. While some of the thoughts he compiled were cute, funny, adorable, sad, etc., to me, they revealed a desire to shout to the world something that is within our soul that needs to be expressed, but there isn’t quite the right place for it. This very public space was an invitation to say something they could never speak in person. Between my experience and the book, I came to a startling conclusion: we all have words we want to say (in public) but don’t.

Different than writing in a journal or diary, typing your honest thoughts in public, but without anyone ever knowing who wrote it, is somehow freeing and cathartic. And for those who read the random ponderings of a stranger, I believe, it’s not only eye-opening but also more relatable than we know; I know it is strangely relieving for me to read the inner thoughts of those I do not know.

I briefly wrote about this in Issue No. 4: Night & Day in an article titled “Seeing People Without Seeing People”. What also stood out to me was that we can look at someone, judge them by their appearance and even by their words, but most of the time, we really don’t know them. My experience with putting out a public typewriter was an enlightening glimpse into the souls of the people standing next to us. We’d never guess, from outward appearances, what’s in the heart of others.

So, my question is, what would you type on a public typewriter? If you knew that as you put your fingers to the keys and could walk away with no one ever knowing who typed those words, what would you say? We all have thoughts burning deep inside us that we share with no one, except perhaps in our prayers, because we either think that no one else must feel that way or we fear being judged and misunderstood.

Here’s a thought: write out what you want to say on a piece of paper, tear it up after you write your thought, and throw it away. Another idea is to go out to the woods and speak to the trees about those thoughts that would like to find expression. Thoughts don’t define us—unless we put action to them. Thoughts we don’t want to share sometimes need to find an avenue to be released and let go. I’ve found that sometimes when I find a way to express what I want to say but don’t want anyone to ever hear, that thought disappears once it is verbalized. Most of the time, I do this in prayer while taking a walk in nature. For those who are a little bolder, write (or type) what you want to say on a piece of paper and leave it in a public place where a stranger would eventually find it. You never know, that discovery of your words might be an encouragement to the one who stumbles upon your words as they whisper to themselves, “Me, too.”