A while back, I published a story “Is a Good Marriage Good Enough?” about the silence that hung like air in a coffin around my [then] husband and me. I wondered when it was that we ran out of things to talk about. Our good marriage was coming to an end.

As he and I sat in silence around that Formica table so many years ago, I created an internal monologue that was screaming to be heard. At the same time, I projected how I assumed my husband would respond if I actually shared my thoughts out loud.

He was probably doing the same thing.

I now understand that between us we produced an entire script in our silence, in which each of our roles was fully programmed. Our relationship was trapped in a predetermined set of internal dialogues that excluded the other.

The silence between us was filled with a cacophony of words that blocked the possibility of evolution or growth.

…

A few days ago, Randy Shingler published a poem titled “What is Love?” The first line reads, “Sharing in the freedom of silence.”

Like most poems, this one doesn’t spell out what it means to “share in the freedom of silence.” (Randy, maybe you’ll comment on this?)

But deep down we know what it means, don’t we?

The intimate sharing that happens when my soulmate and I are comfortable enough with each other to just be present, without worrying about what the other might be thinking. Or about what needs to be said to fill the void.

In this case, the silence between us is truly freeing. It is one of the most precious gifts my beloved and I give each other.

…

How can I know the difference?

I alone can tell. If my silence is filled with internal dialogue, I’m not likely to feel Randy’s “freedom of silence.”

Only when the silence between us is truly empty can it fill our souls.