The Legacy of the Word—she didn’t scream…

(By Joe Nichols and Richard Walter)

There have always been those who remembered when the rest of the world forgot.

A hundred years ago, Florence Scovel Shinn did not just write a book. She remembered something the world had buried beneath war and want and the machinery of progress. She remembered that words shape us. That what we speak into the world becomes the life we live. And she had the audacity to say it aloud. Not as theory. Not as gospel. But as lived truth.

She didn’t scream. She didn’t shout. She whispered. And in that whisper was power.

She called it The Game of Life and How to Play It. But it wasn’t a game. Not really. It was a revolt. A quiet one. A revolt against despair. Against smallness. Against the inheritance of silence handed down like an heirloom nobody wanted, but everyone carried.

Florence told us: your word is your wand. And what she meant was that you don’t have to beg the world for worth. You declare it. You remember it. You speak it back into your own bones until the marrow believes you.

Others heard her. Louise Hay. Wayne Dyer. Teachers, yes, but more than that. Witnesses. Carriers of the flame. They didn’t invent the truth. They lived it. Louise taught us how to look into the mirror without turning away. Wayne reminded us that intention isn’t just some lofty dream. It is how you choose to live, even when you’re afraid. Even when you’re alone.

And now. Here we are.

It is our turn. Not to perform. Not to pretend. But to pick up the thread.

This isn’t legacy. This is responsibility.

Because we are drowning in words but starving for truth. Because we have bought the lie that our value must be proven, packaged, and sold. Because we have been taught to worship what wounds us and distrust what heals.

IAMday is not a holiday. It is a reckoning.

A call to stop waiting for someone else to anoint us, appoint us, or validate us. You do not need permission to speak what you know. You do not need to justify your longing for something more. You are not crazy. You are remembering.

This day is a line drawn in the dust. And the only question is: will you speak?

Will you say what needs to be said, even if your voice shakes?

Will you write what you’ve been afraid to write, even if no one claps?

Will you stop performing worthiness and live it?

IAMday 2025 is not about manifesting yachts and mansions. It is not about pretending everything is beautiful when it hurts like hell. It is about reclaiming authorship over your own becoming. It is about speaking the word that breaks the curse. And yes, there are curses. Systems built to keep you quiet. Scripts written long before you could say no.

But you can write something else now.

You can write your yes.

Florence didn’t wait for approval. She wrote what the world wasn’t ready to hear, and the world caught up. Louise didn’t ask permission to love herself. She just did. Wayne didn’t wait to be understood. He stood anyway.

So we do not gather in their memory. We gather in their mirror.

IAMday is not theirs. It is ours.

Ours to speak into. Ours to answer. Ours to carry forward, not as doctrine, but as declaration. We are still becoming. And we will not be silenced.

So, if something inside you is stirring, if there is a word in your heart you’ve been too afraid to say, say it now.

There are others listening. Quietly. Desperately. Waiting to remember who they are.

Let them know.

IAMday.org

The awakening is not someday.

It is now.
And you are not late.

You are right on time…

Joe Nichols is the irreverent reverend behind Beautiful Heresy on Substack, where he writes with heart, wit, and just enough troublemaking to keep things interesting. He pokes at the edges of belief, beauty, and what it means to be human—with a laugh, a question, and the occasional holy contradiction.

Richard Walter is the voice behind Through the Doldrums of Midlife and I AM Awake on Substack. He writes from the heart of transformation, blending midlife musings with spiritual wake-up calls and the quiet wisdom of lived experience. He’s also the founder of IAMday.org, a global invitation to remember who we are—together.

They met somewhere between a poem and a cosmic nudge, and this post is what happens when a beautiful heretic and a midlife mystic sit down to write.