voices… I hear voices…

In my head the voice is waiting…
waiting for me, to set it free
I locked it inside my imagination
but I’m the one who’s got the combination
Some people didn’t like what the voice did say
so I took the voice and I locked it away
I got the key, I got the key
[Russ Ballard, Voices]

Remember that song?

Oh… how do I not get in touch with my own voice? Though, to be truthful, there are many voices… each important aspects of who I am as a whole, and yet each quite individual. Getting them to all sit down at the thanksgiving dinner table together and not get into an argument about who should be partaking of the white meat or the dark meat, or ANY meat for that matter, is quite a feat at times, but they manage, somehow to get to the end and all agree that the pumpkin pie with whipping cream is just the *best* thing since sliced bread.

All funning aside… finding your voice — your authentic voice — takes some work… courage… compassion toward Self… because there are parts of ourselves that we would rather not acknowledge (forget about inviting them to thanksgiving dinner). Yet each part is an important aspect of the whole of who we are, and by understanding the individual roles each part plays in who we are is how we can become integrated… always noting that the parts change as we move through life… Shakespeare’s “all the world’s a stage” comes to mind, and our collective parts evolve as our story shifts and changes.

Of course the question has more to do with voicing WHO we are to the rest of the world. In essence, every action we take, word we share, motion we make during our daily lives is sharing our essence… how we choose to show our different parts is up to each of us. And, I reserve the right to change my mind as I’m going along by the seat of my pants. 🙂

Actually, I wanted to add to this. I was speaking from the place that I am now, and not of the journey that led me to here.

The journey of finding my voice has been a long -sometimes joyous, sometimes filled with agony- road. It is not that I didn’t have a voice… any one of the thanksgiving feast attendees have certainly been voices throughout this journey.

Sometimes my voice has felt like a canary in a coal mine, wildly chirping out a last song, before it ran out of air and dropped to the bottom of the cage, lifeless.

Sometimes the voice was hurtful, lacerating everyone within its vicinity, including myself. Bloodied and spent, I’d start over, requesting forgiveness from myself and others… at times it was granted and other times not. Still… letting go and moving on is the important thing.

Sometimes the voice is filled with wisdom, and nurtures and awakens my Self and those of others around me.

Sometimes it is but a whisper, wishing on a star, or telling its dreams to a piece of parchment with a quill and dragon’s blood.

These are some of my many voices, that have come and have gone… we each of us have many voices, and they all have a desire to be heard… they merely need to find the right ears and open hearts.

Blessings my lovelies… to each and every part of you…


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