A Common Language
Dear fellow travelers,
Yesterday we visited my parents. We had vegetables from their garden. A wine tasting. Strawberry punch. Conversations about artificial intelligence, the church, the future, and innovation.
I listened. I tried to contribute. And at some point, I realized that I didn't have to prove anything.
This morning I thought: It was nice to have been there. And it's just as nice to be back home.
I used to think that a good relationship meant being as similar as possible. Today, I believe something different.
A good relationship doesn't mean speaking the same language. It means being willing to learn the other person's language.
My partner and I are very different in many ways. When I have a vision, he often sees the fuel first. When I want to run off, he plans the route. When I’m exhausted, he reminds me not to miss the sunset. When he feels uneasy on the scree, he gets my hiking pole.
None of us is always strong. None of us is always right.
But we're a good team. Not because we've become the same, but because we understand each other better and better.
Maybe that doesn't just apply to relationships. It might apply to life as well.
Over the past few months, I've sometimes felt like no one understood what I was actually creating.
Then I realize: Maybe it’s not about everyone understanding everything right away. Maybe it’s about the right people gradually starting to speak the same language.
Not my words. But the same experience. The language of deep calm. Of vitality. Of vastness. Of a body that is slowly becoming a home again.
A friend of mine hadn't been in touch for quite a while. She had simply disappeared amid the summer heat and the daily hustle and bustle.
But then I suddenly saw a reply to one of my stories: “Yayyyyyyy, I signed up for your class. And it looks like there’s a problem with the booking for the other class.”
It goes without saying.
When my sweetheart drove out to the pond alone yesterday to think and have some space to himself amid the stifling summer heat, I realized: We’ve been speaking the same language for a long time now.
I actually wanted to go along. But then I had to rest and smoke, and suddenly I was back in my own time zone.
My boyfriend realized this before I did and suggested, “Let’s just meet right at your parents’ house.” Even before I realized that it didn’t make sense for me to go to his place first.
And then my mom opened the door, and we both had to laugh: We were both wearing blue summer dresses—the exact same shade—with Mary Janes. It was as if we’d planned it.
Our bodies spoke the same language that evening, too.
Maybe that's the best part of getting older. I spend less and less time trying to convince everyone. And more and more time with people and places where a connection just happens naturally.
With love and in search of the right words,
Jeannette
