There are moments in life – in love, in grief, in ceremony – where words simply don’t fit. Where what I feel stretches so far beyond the edges of a sentence that trying to explain it feels like betrayal.
I’ve always been someone who feels deeply. I’ve sat with plant spirits, bathed in the silence of the Moon, cried from dreams I couldn’t explain, and known things I couldn’t prove.
And I’ve come to realize something simple, but profound: words are too small for certain truths.
Language is linear. It’s built to move in a line: beginning, middle, end. Subject, verb, object. But life is not linear. Life moves in spirals, waves, and dreams.
When I’ve tried to describe a plant medicine vision or a feeling from a dream, I always end up frustrated. They always will, because English (or Dutch, or any linear language) can’t capture what the soul knows in light and vibration.
That’s why we dream. Why we use metaphor, art, ceremony, music, sound, scent, dance. That’s why cacao speaks and plants sing.
The soul speaks in symbols. The body speaks in sensations. The heart speaks in energy. And this – this is our deeper language.