Beyond Words: The Wisdom of Silence

“Those who know do not speak. Those who speak do not know.”

These ancient words, attributed to Lao Tzu in the Tao Te Ching, remind us of something essential: ultimate truth is beyond language. The Tao cannot be contained in sentences or concepts. Those who truly perceive it live quietly in its flow rather than trying to capture it in words.

Think about how limited words can be. Imagine trying to describe the taste of an orange. If I asked two people to explain it, one might say, “It’s tangy, juicy, citrusy.” The other might insist, “It’s sweet, bright, uplifting.” Both are right. Both are incomplete. Anyone who has ever eaten an orange knows that no string of adjectives can replace the experience itself. Words are, at best, pointers.

This is why Zen Buddhism offers another metaphor: “The finger pointing at the moon is not the moon.” Teachings, doctrines, and explanations are fingers—they can guide your gaze in the right direction, but they are not the direct experience. Confusing the two leads us away from truth, not toward it.

When we begin to see this, a quiet humility arises. We no longer demand that words do the impossible. Instead, we allow them to gesture toward something greater, and we step into silence to truly know.

Listening Beyond Words

The wisdom of silence doesn’t just apply to spiritual insight—it can transform the way we communicate with each other. Words, after all, are only substitutes for what someone is truly trying to express. When we remember that words are imperfect pointers, we can look past them to find the deeper meaning they are gesturing toward.

Take a common example in couples’ dialogue: one partner says, “You’re not listening to me!” Instantly, defensiveness can flare. We might respond with, “Of course I’m listening—I’ve heard every word you’ve said!” From there, the conversation spirals into debate.

But if we pause and recognize that these words are not the whole message or even the primary message, something shifts. What sounds like an accusation is actually a front-row glimpse into an internal experience. Instead of reacting, we can lean in with a “third ear”—listening not just to the words, but to the heart of the message behind them.

When we do, we might begin to hear what’s really being said: “I feel alone in this. I feel stranded, as though I’m on an island by myself. What I want most is to feel close to you, and I’m scared that I’ve lost that connection.” 

The even deeper meaning be, from the Course perspective, I have destroyed Heaven. Which we all experience when we deny the love that has not left our minds. Listening beyond the words becomes an opening. 

Suddenly, the statement “You’re not listening” is no longer a weapon but a cry for closeness. And when we listen this way—with patience, openness, and a willingness to hear beyond the surface—we step into a deeper, healing kind of communication. 

ACIM says that all behavior is either an expression of love or a call for it. With deep listening we begin to hear the call for love. 

The only sane response when someone is expressing love to us is to express love back. Additionally, the only sane response when someone is expressing fear, in the form of attack, is to reflect love back. 

When we listen to the message behind the words we will hear the language they are asking us to speak for them to remember the love that has never left their mind.

Reflective Prompts for Deeper Listening

1. The last time someone said something that upset me, what might they have really been trying to express beneath the words?

2. When I feel defensive in conversation, can I pause and ask myself: What hurt or longing might this person be pointing to?

3. How often do I listen only to the words instead of the feelings and message behind them? What changes if I shift my focus?

4. In my closest relationship, what are the unspoken fears that surface again and again?

5. What does it feel like in my body when I listen with openness rather than preparing my response?