autumn days

Wednesday, March 4, 2015


Lately, I have grown uncomfortable with my own silence.  Silence can be a useful tool when listening to others, when finding quiet space alone to listen to ourselves.  Silence can be a part of self-care, comforting and nourishing.  Silence makes things appear healthy and calm from the outside, though on the inside a new story may take form.  When used too often, the quality of silence may begin to shift and deplete and distance ourselves from others.  After a long silence, we may even begin to lose sight of ourselves.  In my vocal family, I step into my listening role so deeply that I forget to listen to myself.  As a child, silence protected me somewhat from my father's anger.  I was a survival expert when it came to invisibility and silence.  These useful childhood skills no longer benefit me, so now is the time to recognize them, thank them, and let them go.

In their place, I choose to take the risks in connecting with others, sharing the ways in which I am learning and growing, following my path.  It is not easy to talk about my personal pains, though talking with a trusted loved one is a way for me to set those lower emotions free.  This fresh freedom makes space for the infinite possibilities that lay in wait.

So with this new lightness of breath, I slowly begin to vocalize what has been building up within my heart.  I share with several beloved ones, so as not to overwhelm any individual with weight I've grown to carry.  In the simple acts of talking about my thoughts with others, I hear the whisper of a song returning to my heart.  I know "this too shall pass" and a new day is dawning.  And I give the greatest of thanks for this renewed connection with myself as I sing my way back into the lightness of our beautiful world.

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