When people ask about the languages I speak, the answer is not as simple as naming a country or pointing to a flag. I grew up taking Spanish in the fifth grade while attending Catholic school, but I never truly learned to speak it with confidence or ability. I can still count to ten, and I remember a handful of words, but I have always wished I had the gift of being bilingual in the traditional sense.

Even so, I have come to understand that there are other kinds of languages, languages that are not specific to any country. I speak the language of flowers, of birds, of the stars, and of nature itself. I hear the music of the night and the day as it rises from the world around me in the swamp. To me, that language speaks directly to my soul.

I am also an avid reader of body language, and in many ways, I use it as a language of my own. Eye contact, posture, facial expression, and gestures all speak to me. It also allows me to hear what people feel and think. At times, body language can reveal more than words ever could. A glance, a shift in stance, or the smallest movement can carry meaning, emotion, truth, or hesitation. I speak, or try to, always, the language of kindness. To speak in a way that allows my words to encourage, give hope, and make people feel heard and seen.

These languages have shaped my life in quiet but powerful ways. They bring peace to my soul and help me understand nature, God, and people without always needing spoken words. While I do love the art of language and the beauty of words, languages that do not rely on words to be heard often have the most comforting and enlightening impact on my life. I also love the language of poetry… Shel Silverstein says it often simplistically best,