rebecca soble

Sometimes explaining something detracts from its beauty. Language is too clunky, too limiting. To look at something and feel the beauty of it inside you, trying to turn that feeling into words is just about impossible. And attempting to just narrows down the feeling, turns it into something ordinary and cliched. The beauty of the gorge at Watkins Glen State Park is unspeakable. To say “wow” at every turn diminishes it. Be silent and let it just become part of you. The joy I feel seeing the crinkles appear in the corners of your eyes when you laugh, how could I ever describe that feeling without it sounding corny? I stay quiet and revel in it.

I think our tendency to describe feelings comes from the misperception that to capture them in words means that we will be able to hold on to the feeling longer, that the vocalization turns the feeling into a stronger memory. But really, to make a strong memory, I find it’s best to stay silent and just absorb what I am experiencing. Let it consume me, wipe out all other distracting inputs and thoughts, and just be what it is, completely.

Or maybe we talk because we want to find some way of sharing an experience with the people around us, want to feel that they are experiencing the same wonderment as we are. It feels true that a shared experience is often a stronger one than a solitary experience. But no two people will ever experience anything the same anyway, too much individual history and interpretation for that to happen. So to be able to share an experience with a friend who also understands about quietness makes it a very special experience indeed. Squeeze a hand, share a smile, or just enjoy knowing that your friend also realizes the moment is too profound for words.