Quiet Told Me

There is noise buzzing all around us. It’s in the interactions we have with others, in the messages that we are flash fed through media, and in the memories sealed into our psyche like a trunk of experiences we carry around with us, and although we don’t peek in often, sorting through it instantly cues response within us.

What would you tell yourself if you could quiet the noise? What would you allow to surface, allow yourself to believe in, to own and not shame into the shadows?

I would allow myself to feel lonely once in a while and not ever interpret that as a sign of weakness or dependence on anyone or anything.

I would allow myself to be feely and sensitive, compassionate and expressive, without it being branded weak or emotional or dramatic in an unnecessary sense.

I would freely express the thoughts and insights that present to me without the intimidation of another’s intellect or expertise preventing me, muffling my voice; telling me I’m ignorant or assumptive, or that someone has offered better words on the matter.

I would allow myself to experiment freely, try things on for size, and explore all varieties, embracing each one to its limit without the anticipation of someone calling me flighty or “of the minute girl” or overly impulsive, invalidating my passion. I’d allow the electricity to race in my heart, unconditionally.

I would quiet the voice that tells me that starting over is too hard and too risky, and that protecting myself from change, future, and love is safe.

I would reject labels that box me, keeping me in a category for others to better understand: brand of spirituality, political affiliation, thinker vs. feeler, professional vs. mama, wholesome vs. wild child, mainstream vs. alternative, career stamp, level of success. And I wouldn’t let the chance of falling short in any one area to prevent me from showing up fully in any given space.

I would continue on, brave and courageous, sharing words even when those I love don’t get it or me. I would resist shrinking back into myself, fading to a whisper, when the reception falls short of encouragement or even acceptance.

I would let go of the uneasiness of feeling misunderstood because really, that goal – to be fully understood – is futile.

I would eliminate shame from my feeling chart.

I wouldn’t let cultural “standards” penetrate my self-perception, not even a single layer, injecting false ideals and sizing me up by my exterior.

I wouldn’t entertain regret; rather move forward confidently knowing that each intersection in my life has provided some sense of direction and seasoning.

I would not shy away from my potential for fear — not of failure, but of possibility and success.

I wouldn’t let others’ conflicting perception and translation of my experiences, my choices, my actions, or my beliefs swarm around my head in an invasive cloud after arriving at my truth through thoughtful reflection.

I would completely refrain from filling in the blanks for people who leave me standing. In a vulnerable position, I’m likely to fill that space with loaded assumptions creating more unrest than present.

I’d let go of the should’ves that I hold on to, much too tightly.

I wouldn’t hesitate to write these words, and share them for that matter, for fear that they’re not received as I intend.

I’ve discovered the places where the quiet delivers ease. They are all around us and look differently for everyone. I find the quiet in the company of rich friendships, anywhere near the water, in a thought provoking book, in dance, in yoga, in writing, on the back of a horse, in quiet exploration with my babes, and in the bed of my “childhood” home.

It as if in these spaces, I know exactly who I am and possibility pulses with trust in the present. Obstacles are less significant. Quiet is not a destination, it’s a journey and practice that I’m packing for and choosing more often.

How does your quiet speak to you?