I love crafted words. Written or spoken or sung or poemed. In all forms they ignite my imagination and connect me to the writer and other curious, confused humans.

And yet. Words automatically narrow and confine. By its very nature, a description draws a border, however beautiful, around the described.

It can take courage to feel without words. My mind wants to tell a story, explain, define. But my spirit needs time hanging suspended, hovering in wordlessness. Whether wonder or love or grief or surprise or quiet, it nourishes an ancient place in me to spend time with no words.