I’m Thankful For the Voice of …

Writing is a process of mining layers of dreaming and intuition, and then offering it to the world’s voice in thrusts of courage.

I hear voice in all things. When I intuit sentience in animals I hear the animal’s voice, its connection to others of its species, its family unit, and its interdependence with its environment. I feel the complex interactions, the richness, of the animal’s life.

So on the Thanksgiving weekend, the voices of taste, writing, family, service, freedom, history, Earth and Spirit self-excavated. Simple bits of gratitude for some of life’s voices.

Still life harvest decoration for Thanksgiving

VOICE 

Taste

Herbaceous hand of moss and peat in French press,

a sweet column of Sumatran steam infiltrates senses

40 parallels away

Writing

Long enough listened, fear, shame, grief, remorse, repentance, re-commitment

no longer the sharp elbow to whispers of silence, reflection, empathy, comfort, truth, divinity, awe,

the voice of vertical self-purification, empowerment

Family

8 mm low-octave joy

manning the blinding light bar on a 1957 Christmas morning,

impervious to sleepy eyes

Service

Breath of Presidio officers past,

steeled in Golden Gate,

incarnate in eucalyptus

Freedom

The tenderest spot of sacrifice,

historical, contemporary service emancipates our chained hands, hearts

restlessly underlies colorless purpose 

History

Argued self-governance in perpetuity

Families of variety, integrity, diversity, equality

“With malice toward none, with charity for all”

Earth

Filtered sunlight politely suspended

over an archical band of redwood salal,

a massive red and yellow slug an emblem of scale of its environment

Spirit

In Light,

in my presence,

as my father transitioned

 

Use your voice.

Courageous Men Listen to the Voice Women Already Hear

I have come to know deeply that my voice is strong and that my words matter more than I could once have possibly imagined.

I intuit, feel and hear a voice that has its foundation in love. The love from which this voice emanates permeates every word so I must choose words with care.

A single voice from its deepest source is, actually, the voice of everyone. It ignores things like ego and judgment, history and accomplishment, temperament and lifestyle, opinion and desire, dogma and affiliation.

It’s the voice that waits patiently while we think we have another agenda.

I have come to realize that the voice asks for more of my attention when I sense the violation of others. Violation has nothing to do with fairness or equality, which are subjective.

I’ve also noticed that once in awhile violation partners with courage to become voice.

When I hear the voice of violation and I sense its underlying courage, I recognize it as a catalyst to act.

The voice of action is completely desensitized to apathy, fear or conformity. In its calmly insistent way, it compels action.

Assault… verbal, physical, emotional… is violation. It has no qualifiers.

This is a voice for the final cessation of men’s brutality againt women.

The world I see is extinguished of the battering, belligerent, dominant behavior men impose upon women. Men in this world have the courage to listen to their own aspect of the voice which guides them away from brutality of any kind and into partnership and counsel.

Our business team

The voice that speaks softly also softens experience. It frequently produces the effect that the events, people and circumstances that surround me have a surreal quality; yet I circle around to the felt understanding that what’s in my experience matters.

I have come to know deeply that my voice is strong and that my words matter more than I could once have possibly imagined.

I know this to be true of all others.

The Voice of a Handwritten Letter

This is not a poetry blog. This post is a different variety of declaration urging people to use their voices.

Recently, I gave the gift of the poem that follows to a 60-year friend for Mother’s Day. It began as a remembrance of the letters we wrote as kids leveraged with the delicious detail of handwriting terms, of my friend’s mother’s passing, and as poems do, evolved into a lament of the fact that our kids don’t experience the joy of a handwritten letter. 

IN OUR HANDWRITING

We

held hands

in pale vellum.

Confidences were

penned, licked, sealed, received.

Cursive lines of love disguised

as the details of summers in

Maine, in Florida, from the south rim

of the Grand Canyon when our objections

to separation went unheard. Teenage

upstrokes borne of ‘60s hope for a

world of love. Warm summers, easy

flourishes. Secrets of bad

boys we loved, descenders

too delicious to

cast aside. Young

skill sets, no

r e m o r s e.

x-

height,

practice

for restraint

neither of us

wanted. Unprepared

for the mother of love,

gentility, kindness, the

community’s baseline for

care, to show us how to live without

her. Allographs of wholeness descended

into stressors, curves of pain, disbelief.

While My Guitar Gently Weeps, love

sleeps in the next room, cancer

notwithstanding. The hand

of penmanship, in

hers now,

delicately,

one last

time.

20180601_173045

After a very challenging week, a co-worker penned a note of thanks to me for my patience, professionalism, support and counsel. Such a gesture of appreciation in a business environment is not often given. I can say that the note’s influence continues to resonate. I read it every day.

The importance of using our voices intimately, oratorically, conversationally, poetically and in prose cannot be overstated. Neither can the case for penning deeply personal thoughts and wishes to others. It’s the highest form of personal expression and tribute.

 

Having a Voice can Include Silence

Silence takes many forms. Recognition of inner stillness, the stillness we all share. A chosen absence of speech, which is often quite powerful in conversation or debate. A reaction to circumstance or event.

Silence, I was reminded by Gaston Bachelard, a French 20th Century non-conformist whose interests and education spanned from mathematics to philosophy to chemistry to physics to poetry to architecture, is also “the source of our first suffering… and lies in the fact that we hesitated to speak.”

The world is full of talk today, yes? Little of it, though, is other than superfluous banter at others and not genuine conversation with them. It’s often disparaging, disrespectful and even demeaning.

Frequently, our most important conversations lay dormant, remaining latent as a result of the fear of any number of things, including perceived lack of qualification or authority, or the risk of humiliation.

Herein lies Bachelard’s point. A voice suppressed or withdrawn or belittled is, indeed, a form of suffering. It’s a missed opportunity to connect with others in ways that promote growth, understanding and acceptance. It’s the most important vehicle of self-expression we have, and far more important that any superficial expression.

I have many interests, and I can even muster an opinion. But bigger topics, even risking areas of disagreement, are what intrigue me because there is no one right answer to any question.

I respect courage, self-reflection, equanimity and, yes, silence in its most powerful context. They’re all wonderful tools to build relationships and societies of fairness and diversity. One conversation at a time.

Welcome to SilentThingsWithinUs.