once, while introducing Peace Journalism to a group of campus journalists, i asked the question--
"what five-letter word do we always speak of, hear of, write about, talk about, but can never get enough of?"
of course, the answer was a give-away: "Peace", and the audience almost simultaneously spoke it.
then, i asked--
"how come? if we speak, hear, write, talk about it so much, how come we still don't have it in our midst?"
that took a while answering. and the audience fell silent for a couple of minutes.
then, somebody ventured, "maybe, it's because we don't live it out yet? when we actually live something out, we don't even speak of it anymore?"
i smiled and nodded, and the audience guffawed when i said, "just like sex, no? the people who keep talking about it are the ones who are not having it in their lives, true?"
this makes me wonder now about which is deeper, truer then... the pain that one can speak of and describe in all its gory, gnashing detail--
or the one which renders one wordless?
in the same vein, which is the truer, deeper love then... the love that everyone knows about because one announces its every nuance and development--
or the one which is kept in the silence of one's heart?