Author: Chih Sang

I remember Bruce Lee once saying that positive words make a difference. Not in a loud, motivational-poster way —but in a disciplined, intentional way. The kind where what you repeat becomes what you practice.

That idea stayed with me.

Years ago, I came across an experiment —the one where people spoke kindly to a jar of water, and harshly to another. The water exposed to positive words stayed clear. The other turned cloudy, sour. Whether you believe the science behind it or not almost doesn’t matter. What mattered to me was the metaphor.

If words can shape water, what do they do to us?

We are mostly water.
We are constantly listening.
Even when we think we’re not.

Growing up, I learned endurance more than encouragement. Praise wasn’t spoken —it was implied through presence and work. And so I became very good at being hard on myself. Efficient. Critical. Relentless. I thought that was strength.

Bruce Lee thought differently.

He talked about discipline of the mind. About the danger of repeating negative scripts even quietly. Especially quietly. Because those are the ones that sink in deepest.

On this journey, I’ve become more aware of what I feed myself. The words I use when something goes wrong. The tone I take when I’m tired. The stories I tell myself about who I am and what I deserve.

Positive vibes aren’t about pretending everything is fine.
They’re about choosing not to poison yourself while you’re already carrying enough.

Positive words.
Positive moments.
Positive pauses.

They don’t fix everything. But they change the environment you’re trying to heal in.

And maybe that’s the point.

Not that words magically transform the world but that they quietly shape the space inside us. And over time, that space becomes the place we live from.

Bruce Lee understood that strength wasn’t just physical.
It was intentional.

And lately, I’ve been choosing my words more carefully —not because life is easy, but because I finally understand how much they matter.