I have a voice. Several voices. A parent voice, a consultant voice, a friend voice, a child voice. There are more, though in my attempt to reconnect, I am trying to think, speak and do from one voice. Uncovering a more integrated whole.
Still…I am listening for another voice. One I want to become more familiar with. One that is less interested in my story. And because it does not know the bounds of my story, is closer to essence. There are times I would like it to make itself more known. Times when I feel like I am dismissive of its presence. But I do know, I’ve heard it. I’m learning how to listen.
It is part of me, and I believe we are more vast than what we perceive. And so it might be hidden among the stars, the star light. Or deep in the earth. Or among the grasses playing gently in the breeze.
Throwing off the chainmail. Allowing it to melt around me, puddling, so that I might see my reflection. There’s a hint of the voice I’m looking for in that reflection of thawed garment, if I’m willing to cock my head a bit, find new eyes, ears.
Fluidity. A willingness to follow, to see how it flows around, through and under, where it stills, where lies its desire. How do I clear my ears, adjust my eyes, open my heart to attune to it? The ways I know so well don’t seem to apply. There are no cairns to follow.
It is at once, something that has been here from the start, and something to grow. Once discovered, there is some sense of responsibility, or maybe an act of self-compassion, to listen, to speak it, to honor it.
There is a piece of childlike wonder, excitement, in the process of discovery. A freedom there too. Something I want to know better, sidle up to, welcome in.
Breathe, soften, consider what I’ve been told, what I’ve come to understand, is neither the beginning nor the end. It is more of an opening. Another voice is awaiting its spring.