The first thing I do when I wake up is talk... to whomever; my husband, the cat, the coffee maker, myself- I chat. I talk when I get nervous, anxious, mad, sad, scared... I chat. I feel the need to fill the air with words. My chatter is so frequent it often becomes diluted. I've had the pleasure of meeting people who say so much by saying not much at all. It is a very powerful feeling to be in the company of someone who does not have the need to fill the air with chatter, but when they decide to talk- their words have such meaning, such purpose. I am inspired by people like this, and although I cannot relate to how they communicate, I sure can learn something from them.
When I was a teenager, I managed to get myself in to my fair share of trouble. I will never forget the night my dad picked me up from one of my troublesome situations... I was ready to hear him scream. I braced myself for his wrath, and held my breath thinking about what I would say to retaliate. To my surprise, he said nothing at all. He barely even looked at me. His disappointment in my actions was so palpable- I could taste it, but he didn't utter a word at all. I begged him to say something, I even tried to start an argument, but he didn't participate... silence. It said so much. I was so disappointed in myself for disappointing him, I wised up very quickly.
Recently, I found myself in a predicament where I didn't know the right thing to say. I tried to fill the void- the dead air, with chatter, but realized that my nonsense talk didn't add anything to the situation. I wanted to support, I wanted to say something to make it all better, but realized that more than anything else- my physical presence was more support than anything I could say. So I sat in silence. Although I was uncomfortable, I realized my silence said so much and my physical presence was support enough. I said what needed to be said without opening my mouth.
From one soul to another-
