The Space Between Words

Artwork by Matt Dixon

There’s something fascinating about silence.

For much of my life, I didn’t see it that way. Silence used to feel like an absence, an emptiness that begged to be filled with words. The right words, of course—words that could fix a misunderstanding, bridge a distance, or build a connection. I used to think the more quickly I could respond, the more present I would appear. The more I filled the space, the more value I brought to it.

But silence, as it turns out, isn’t empty. It’s where the truth has room to breathe.

It’s in the spaces between words that people reveal themselves—often not in what they say but in what they don’t. I didn’t always understand that. I thought communication was about getting the words exactly right, crafting the perfect response. What I’ve learned is that the best conversations aren’t built on what we say but on the room we create for listening.

When I think back, I can see how many times I rushed to respond, not because the moment demanded it, but because I was uncomfortable with the pause. I’ve realized that discomfort often comes from a deeper place. Sometimes, we speak not to connect but to control. To steer the moment in a direction that feels safe, predictable, and manageable.

But life doesn’t offer safety or predictability—not in its truest, most meaningful moments.

Life presents us with people and circumstances that challenge our freedom—not freedom in the sense of movement or action, but the freedom to be present without needing to control. To listen without needing to solve. To pause without rushing forward.

When I reflect on the conversations that have mattered most, they weren’t the ones where I had the right answer. They were the ones where I gave space for something deeper to emerge—whether from myself or the other person.

I’ve come to see that silence isn’t a void; it’s a mirror.

When we sit with it, it reflects back the truth of where we are. Are we at peace, or are we grasping? Are we here, or are we already moving on to the next moment? In the quiet, we can see ourselves more clearly—and in seeing ourselves, we allow others to do the same.

Communication, at its best, isn’t about having the perfect words. It’s about being willing to let the conversation unfold naturally, even if it doesn’t go the way we expect. It’s about letting go of the need to manage every moment and trusting that what needs to be said will find its way.

That doesn’t mean we abandon clarity or intention. It means we approach each exchange with a kind of humility—a recognition that the most important part of any conversation isn’t what we say but how we listen.

And sometimes, the best way to listen is to wait. To let the silence do the heavy lifting.

It’s not always easy. Silence can feel like surrender, especially when the stakes feel high or the emotions are raw. But it’s in that surrender that connection happens. Not the polished, performative kind of connection, but the real, human kind. The kind that doesn’t require us to prove anything or fix anything, but simply to be.

As I write this, I’m reminded of how many times I’ve rushed into conversations thinking I had to have the answer, only to realize later that what was needed wasn’t my words but my presence. A pause can hold more than a sentence ever could.

So, if you find yourself in a moment of silence today, resist the urge to fill it. Sit with it. Let it stretch out just a little longer than feels comfortable. You might be surprised by what you hear—not from the other person, but from yourself.

Because in the end, the most powerful conversations aren’t the ones where we say the right things. They’re the ones where we allow the quiet to say what we can’t.

Take care,
Cam

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There’s power in the pauses between words. If this resonates, these might too:

• Not Every Problem Needs Fixing: On meeting others as they are, without an agenda.

• Be at Ease: Finding connection in shared, imperfect humanity.

• Kensho: A Mirror to the Self: A practice of clarity and seeing truth.

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