"The heart knows a hundred thousand ways to speak." - Rumi
Speaking from the heart is a cliche, we all know this.
In fact, it is such a cliche for me that to let my heart talk - the only way I can do this is not to speak. It gets ruined on the way out of my mouth, do you feel this way? My heart speaks when I fold the kids' laundry, it says, "Fuck every laundry TV ad that's ever been made, with the woman, fully-made up, and smiling and pairing socks."
Even hallowed words can be hollow, even the good ones. If I were to tell you that I really really love you - despite all the laundry that we co-create -- that just sounds lame, 7th grade passed-note-ish, not expressive of a deepness that cannot be expressed, am I wrong? So I have stopped.
Instead at the end of the day, with the last dishes put away, and the eye of the washing machine closed, I pat the space on the couch next to me that is empty and I will not talk, and you will not talk, and that way we'll know.
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