"I have hated words and I have loved them,
and I hope I have made them right."
Markus Zusak
Some words roll around in our head like socks in a drier and when we string them together there is inevitably one missing. More serious words are closeted in a dark crevice of our mind, planing, organizing, and building defenses. Our truest words bask in the warmth of our heart, soaking in compassion, kindness and insight.
This being said, where do the words come from that tumble out of our mouth uncensored? What is the origin of the harsh and brutal words cutting to the quick? Where is the strong hold storing the words we refuse to express?
It is no wonder we hear nonverbal communication in music or artistic creations. There are some things impossible to express with words. The uplifting from the bird's song or the joy of a meadow filled with flowers. What grace there is in the movement of the dancer moving me beyond words.
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