There are silences in pain. They are not spoken of. They are not handled

We all “chew” on pain; it either nourishes us or kills us.

How can we stop in the face of someone else’s wound that demands truth and coherence!

Who entrusts their pain to the hurricane!

And that pain gets stuck. It settles in.

It doesn’t shout.

It doesn’t make noise

It peeks out in minimal gestures: a glance that fades, a laugh that arrives late, a neutral phrase that hides an abyss: “I’m fine.”

And yet, it’s still there. It’s suffocating.

Other people’s pain has its own language. And it needs the same Wi-Fi to connect.

We live surrounded by voices… but we don’t know the passwords.

We are bombarded with encrypted messages, with symbols and emoticons… but without presence.

Connected… but alone, without coverage.

Relationships have become fragile.

A mere touch is enough to break them. A moment of discomfort is enough to send each one retreating into their own bubble or their own pain.

And in this context, true love is revealed in keeping silent, in knowing how to wait. It is a silence that does not irritate, a respectful silence, one that does not stifle. A silence that is “inhabited”:

the one who cleans,

the one who makes space,

the one who lets the other pass without invading them

Sometimes we act like children who cry because alcohol stings when it disinfects. Like salt that stings, but heals.

This is how a friend acts, who dares to look upon the pain without running away.

Silence your own noise

(inner silence)

The first empathetic gesture is to stop.

Because what most prevents us from listening to the pain of others is not a lack of time, but our own pain or an excess of ego

Our own pain makes us bend over and paralyze us, but it also enables us to understand and forgive  if we don’t enter into its circuit.

Our minds spin and spin: to-do lists, interpretations… And pains, unspoken cries. A kind of continuous monologue that fills the entire space. Even when the other person speaks, we only hear our own echo.

That’s why empathy doesn’t emerge spontaneously; it’s a training in love. An act of freedom.

Turn off your own noise so that the other can exist within you.

Being silent inside is not about being empty. It’s about revealing yourself as available.

It implies something very specific:

to look without invading,

to listen without a plan,

to be present without taking charge

And above all: don’t “get stuck,” don’t enter the spiral of trepidation.

Listen with your heart to understand. He who understands, forgives. Today we react before we understand. And if we don’t understand, we judge and, often, condemn.

When the other person opens up a little, our impulse is to fill the space: with advice, with our own stories, with clichés.

And without realizing it, we do something cruel: we turn their hurt  into a topic , into a case, into a “Okay, I understand now.”

But other people’s pain does not seek intellectual understanding.

Seek acceptance.

Silence is respect if the heart is present.

Silence is cultivated. It has meaning. One learns to speak without words

Adapt to the wounded pace

rhythmic patience .

We need availability.

The one who is injured… is a nuisance. He interrupts.

She’s annoyed because she’s being left behind.

Because it doesn’t always “improve”.

Because it slows us down.

Because she cries again.

Because she can’t handle it all

But you know that pain doesn’t heal with the ticking of a calendar.

And the soul does not follow productivity curves.

In pain, whether of the body or the soul,  the wounded person sets the pace

There are steps forward and nights that bring you back down to earth. And good companionship doesn’t require linear progress to stay close.

Patience  is dancing to the rhythm of that pain: remaining without demanding immediate results.

We are not “a medicine”

• a coffee without a schedule,
• a peaceful walk,
• a shared silence, without needing to explain.

Other people’s pain is tiptoed around.

And there are people who only heal when they discover that they don’t have to act right to be loved. That they can fall without losing the connection. That they can “not be pretty” “or thin”—inside or out—and still be loved.

“Compassion asks us to go where it hurts… Compassion demands that we be weak with the weak, vulnerable with the vulnerable, and helpless with the helpless…”

(Henri JM Nouwen, Compassion: A Reflection on the Christian Life (1982).)

This patience stings because it tires us, it wears us down

Because it forces you to relinquish control.

But it heals: because all a wounded person needs is someone who won’t leave when the process slows down.

“There is a thing crudely called charity, which means charity for the deserving poor; but charity for the deserving is not charity, but justice. It is the undeserving who need it. ” (Chesterton)

Support without invading

We need to cultivate sensitivity so as not to appropriate the pain of others

Because other people’s pain is sacred territory.

And what is sacred should not be trampled on with boots.

To sustain without invading implies:

• do not question,
• do not force,
• do not “draw conclusions”,
• do not demand clarity when there is chaos

Sometimes the most powerful phrase is this:

“I don’t know what to tell you… but you’re not alone.”

Perhaps the world is not breaking apart for lack of ideas, but for lack of connections.

Due to a lack of “attention.” (Byung-chul Han)

For lack of someone who dares to stay when the other lacks brilliance.

Other people’s pain doesn’t ask for solutions: it asks for an open heart.

And that—though it may seem small—changes the world.

The world changes when someone stays.