A reflection from a participant who sat in silence together with Rachelle.
I’m recognizing a deepening desire to find my voice around love—to speak of it more
openly and courageously, to explore its meaning more fully, and to express something
that has lived within me but that I’ve never quite found the words to share before.
Perhaps this is where the words begin.
As many of you know, I spent six weeks, five days a week, Wednesday through Sunday, sitting outside for five hours a day, weather permitting, inviting people to sit silently with me. The experience has changed me in ways that words cannot adequately express.
What I discovered, or perhaps what I was reminded of, was the profound possibility of simply being present with another person. Without conversation, without explanation, without the need to make anything happen. Just two people sharing the same space, allowing themselves to be as they are.
Something about those encounters has stayed with me. And from them, a new practice has begun to emerge, one that I’m excited to share with you.
I’ve been exploring this practice one-on-one with a few people, and those experiences have had a profound impact on me. They have deepened my appreciation for silence, for presence, and for what becomes possible when we let go of thinking about what we’re going to say next.
When we’re not preparing our next words, defending a position, or trying to understand where a conversation is going, something else becomes available to us. We can simply be with one another.
This is the practice.
I will be speaking with someone, and at some point, I will pause the conversation. No explanation, no particular reason—just a moment of silence. I may put a finger to my lips as a signal that I’d like to stop talking. Or, before we begin talking, I may explain that this is something I’d like to invite us to do.
We are still present with each other. Only now, silently.
No expectations. No judgment. Nothing to accomplish. Nothing to get right. Just an opportunity to be present with one another.
You are not alone.
I am here. You are here. And it matters.
Something happens in that silence. Something that may be difficult to explain but possible to feel. Will you allow yourself to feel it? Will you allow the recognition of another to arise?
I know you. I see you. I see you in me.
We will each have our own experience.
Will it feel safe?
Will it become sacred space?
Will the words lose some of their importance, or perhaps become more important?
What happens when we stop talking long enough to truly meet one another?
I want to emphasize something: This practice is about the pause, not the conversation.
I repeat: This practice is about the pause. About being present, not about what is said before or after. And after the pause, continue your conversation or maybe not.
It isn’t about having a meaningful conversation or reaching an understanding. It isn’t about producing a particular feeling or experience. It’s about creating the possibility of something that cannot be planned or predicted.
Will you allow yourself to be?
Will you allow yourself to feel love? To feel a deepening of love between the two of you? To feel each other, to acknowledge each other, without needing to explain or define what is happening?
Perhaps this is one way love reveals itself—not necessarily through what we say or do, but through our willingness to be fully present with another human being.
A remembrance.
Two people. Shared humanity.
Love received. Love given. In these moments, giving and receiving become one.
And perhaps this is where my desire to find my voice around love is leading me. Not simply toward speaking more about love, but toward finding ways to make it more tangible in how we meet one another, how we listen, how we show up, and how we live.
It will take each of us being curious enough to show up in our own ways, humble enough to listen, and courageous enough to keep finding ways to contribute.
I believe that as we learn to meet one another from this place of presence and love, we create possibilities that extend far beyond our individual encounters. We begin to recognize our shared humanity, and with that recognition comes a deeper responsibility to one another.
Together, living from love, finding the courage to create experiences in which love can be felt, recognized and shared, we will create a world where equity for all is not simply an aspiration, but a reality—honored in our choices, reflected in our actions, and celebrated in our communities.
This is a love story.
Not just a story about romantic love, or even the love we feel for those closest to us, but about something more expansive. The love that becomes possible when we truly see one another. When we recognize ourselves in each other. When we allow presence to become an expression of our shared humanity.
Thank you for joining me.
Radical love,
Rachelle
