It has always amazed me to see how the deepest things in life are intangible. It seems that the things that are worth saying are unsayable.
We spend a lifetime gaining grain after grain of wisdom, working to understand it and struggling to express it, only to become more and more a part of it. We age into a stillness and become unspeakable ourselves.
We take years of living to squeeze a few precious words from all that will not speak, and steadily, being shaped by our suffering and polished by our joy, we become the earth, knowing more and saying less. Ironically, after a lifetime, we may finally have important things to say, just as we lose our ability to say them. Yet this doesn’t diminish all we try to say. For the fact that sound always ends in silence doesn’t make music any less precious.
This is necessary, though. It’s how spirit recycles. We are each born one step closer to our Source than those we are born to, for which we are loved by some and never forgiven by others. We each will die with one more thing to say. We each will wake with something familiar on our lip, which we must find and love.