Once I spoke the language of flowers,
Once I understood each word the caterpillar said,
Once I smiled in secret at the gossip of starlings,
And shared a conversation with a housefly in my bed.
Once I heard and answered all the questions of the crickets,
and joined the crying of each falling dying flake of snow.
Once I spoke the language of flowers….
How did it go?
How did it go?
— Shel Silverstein, Where the Sidewalk Ends
We could say that the practice of yoga is all about remembering. Not a cognitive, intellectual knowing like remembering multiplication tables or the names of capital cities. But remembering that each and every thing is unique, animate, and full of surprise. Like the flower, the non-human world speaks a wordless language, a language no tongue, or text, can capture. But listen! It is in the branches of the pine tree swaying to and fro, in the call of the titmouse in the garden, in the deafening roar of the ocean wave crashing. It is the language of the wind and snow. It is in the sound of silence that comes in the moment your thoughts subside.
It takes a child-like wonder to hear this language. Can you recall your conversation with your small pink pony? Your Spider Man action figure? Your imaginary friend who came to visit you before sleep each night? We could say this language is our “native tongue”. But so many of us have forgotten this language, replaced by sound bites and instant messaging and, increasingly, by AI. But the “language of the flowers” has endured on the planet for thousands of years, kept alive by the drum, song, and story of indigenous peoples the world over. Chief Seattle of the Suquamish tribe, described the one language of creation: “All things share the same breath—the beast, the tree, the man. The air shares its spirit with all the life it supports.”
The memory of this rides in the wind that catches the prayer flag in my garden. It is the sound of the coyotes barking at dusk. It is the language of my heart beat and rhythm of every breath. Each day I listen to the voices of this language. I need not know what they say but vow never to forget their meaning.
