Think8 Women

Ask yourself, “What is the worst thing that can possibly happen to me if I give voice to my thoughts, my concepts, my fears or my feelings?”

Will I be laughed at? Scolded?

Will my words rock the boat?

Will the mocking in other’s eyes confirm that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that I am not nearly as smart as I think I am?

Will I be shut down, or worse, will I be ignored?

Will I be loved less?

Finding and using our Voice was this week’s Montreal Roundtable topic. It was a powerful evening of honesty and insight.

It made me think of a plaintive voice I had forgotten long ago.

It was a quiet midday at the lake. No breeze, no birds. Deep in thought on a script, I walked the beach, in and out of gentle waves patting the shore when I noticed a bottle flicking sun flares at me as it rocked back and forth.

Pulling the bottle from the weeds awoke all those little girl dreams of Robinson Crusoe type adventures. Scraping off layers of silt on the crusted bottle, I caught glimmers of white inside. Maybe I had found a real live message in a bottle!

Prying off the cork proved to be less difficult than getting the paper out.

When the reef of curled up pages was flat enough to read, it became clear that a woman’s hand had scribbled out page after page of pain, in tiny spidery writing.

Who was she? How long ago had she thrown this bottle into the lake?

I had no idea. But I wondered why she was so angry. Had life been as unfair to her as she wrote? According to her, no one cared. Page after page crammed with unintelligible details of her sad life.

Obviously she had hoped that someone would find it. And I did. But what could I do with it?

I was haunted by her words that had remained mute in that bottle for such a long, long time.

It can be an epiphany when we finally realize that we don’t need to bottle up our words and throw them into the water, hoping someone will find them and hear us.

It can be life-changing when we realize it is often our own fear that stops us from lifting our voice to speak what we know, feel or dream.

It can be liberating to no longer care how others see us or judge us.

They’ll get angry at our words? Let them get over it.

It is a wake-up slap to the soul to realize that our voice silenced, our brilliance blanketed, our gifts buried in a drawer, makes the whole world less safe and a less created place for all of us.

Our words are not just for us…

Are you stuffing your words in a bottle, hoping someone will find them, read them and come to your rescue? If so, they may sit on the lake bottom for a long, long time.

Lift your voice. Speak your truth, even if your knees are shaking.

Make your voice heard.

Doesn’t have to be in a yell. A whisper will do for a start.

But own your own voice.

Your voice is you.

Warmly,

 

Nancy