In the Solomon Islands in the South Pacific, there’s a remarkable and unusual tradition of logging trees. When a tree is too large to cut down with an axe, the villagers don’t use more force. They use their voices.
At the break of dawn, woodsmen with special powers creep up to the tree and scream at it—loudly and fiercely. Not once. Not twice. But every day for thirty days. And then, the tree dies. It falls over. The belief is that the yelling kills the spirit of the tree. And according to them, it always works.
Whether myth or metaphor, this story offers us something far more than folklore. It holds up a mirror with a question we can’t ignore:
If harmful words can bring down a tree, what might kind, thoughtful, powerful words do?
In education, innovation, and everyday life, we often speak of resources—time, talent, tools. But what if one of our most powerful resources is something we already have? Something ancient. Intimate. Sacred.
Our language. Our very words morph into tiny spells and seeds.
A mentor’s gentle “I believe in you” takes root and blooms when it's needed most.
A joke made in frustration lingers like dust, its presence felt long after the laughter fades.
A parent’s quiet bedtime lesson becomes a protective charm a child carries for life.
A teacher’s simple “There are no wrong answers to this” opens the door to risk-free expression.
Try This
Just for today, notice your words.
Catch one harsh phrase you say to yourself.
Swap it for something softer.Catch one autopilot reply.
Replace it with something that listens.
Speak as if the spirit of what you say might take root in someone.
To words that heal,
Team FUEL