If we were having coffee: Finding my voice

On the way to the gathering.  (Red-winged Blackbirds)

Once upon a time, when women were birds, there was the simple understanding that to sing at dawn and to sing at dusk was to heal the world through joy. The birds still remember what we have forgotten, that the world is meant to be celebrated.

~ Terry Tempest Williams, When Women Were Birds: Fifty-four Variations on Voice 

Thursday’s sunrise.

If we were having coffee, I would be thrilled to see you again.  Come on in!  Let’s grab our beverages — coffee, tea, hot chocolate, water or, since it’s later than usual, an adult beverage of beer or wine — and have a seat in the living room this evening.  It is warm and cozy there, and maybe if the clouds part, we’ll get a glimpse of some stars when we look out the windows.

Turning around during Thursday’s sunrise.

How are you?  What have you been doing lately?  Did you attend a Women’s March today?  Did you travel anywhere?  See anything new and different?  Get together with family or friends? Have you read any good books or watched any good films?

Brought down by the wind.

I finally finished reading Far From the Madding Crowd by Thomas Hardy.  The  2015 movie (on DVD from Netflix) arrived in our mailbox this week.  M and I will watch it tonight.  I found the book difficult to read for about the first half of it, then I either grew used to Hardy’s style or the story picked up.  Whatever the case, it became easier although I continued to take it slow and easy.  Far From the Madding Crowd was first published in 1874 when Hardy was 34 years old.  It’s a love story, the kind with love found and love lost and love found again.  I’m looking forward to watching the movie.

It looks dark, but there is light on the horizon.

If we were having coffee, tea, or some other beverage I would tell you that it has been dark, gray, and gloomy here the past few days.  Sometimes sunrise or sunset would bring us a glimpse of the sun.  Sometimes the light would peek out from between the clouds during the day.  But mostly we have had heavy cloud cover, fog, and misty rains.  More rain is coming tonight and tomorrow.

Light spreading across the marsh at the Point.

If we were having coffee or tea or something else to drink, I would tell you that I regret not being at the Women’s March on Washington today.  I could give you a list of reasons why I didn’t go, including that I’ve been ill.  All would be true.  I’ve been dealing with painful IBS problems lately.  I suspect it’s part of the aftermath of the election.  It is difficult to travel anywhere when dealing with such irritation.  There were other things involved in my decision, but this afternoon I came to realize that the biggest part of my decision not to go was that I have been silencing my own voice.  I have been doing that for a while, but more so since the election.  I could call it a result of being shy or an introvert, but it comes down to fear.

The light makes the grasses glow.

I followed the Women’s March (or more correctly, the Women’s Marches) on Twitter and Facebook and wherever I could find them.  There were so many brave women expressing some of the very things I have been finding it difficult to express.  Some of the signs they carried were hilarious and no less important because of their humor.  I watched and listened to Ashley Judd recite a beat poem written by 19-year-old Nina Donovan from Tennessee.

I am a nasty woman
I’m not as nasty as a man who looks like he bathes in Cheeto dust…

I am sure you’ll have no problem finding Ashley Judd’s rendition at the Women’s March if you do a quick search for it.  The original, recited by the author, Nina Donovan, can be found here.  Very powerful stuff.

The light grows brighter.

Even here at the blog, I have been silencing my voice.  While it’s true I have mentioned politics several times, usually in the course of a coffee chat, I have not told my stories, I have not shared my experiences, and I have not explained exactly why that man “who looks like he bathes in Cheeto dust” made me so uncomfortable, anxious, and yes, afraid.  From his terrible display of making fun of a handicapped man to his own words admitting that he sexually assaults women, DT brought me back to events in my life that I thought I had left behind.

All the grasses, joined together in the light.

What needs to be counted on to have a voice? Courage. Anger. Love. Something to say; someone to speak to; someone to listen. I have talked to myself for years in the privacy of my journals.”

~ Terry Tempest Williams, When Women Were Birds: Fifty-four Variations on Voice

It’s almost as if the light is coming from within.

If we really were having coffee, sitting down with each other face to face, I might begin to hesitantly tell you some of my stories, stories I have told a select few but otherwise have kept silent about.  Maybe you would tell me some of your stories.  And in the telling of those stories, maybe the pain that has been growing in my gut would begin to ease.

Sliding slowly into the water.

Maybe, after we told some of our stories, we would talk about writing and how writing can help us heal from those stories of our past lives.  Maybe we would talk about how stepping out of our comfort zones, of joining with others, will help with that healing.

One more look at the light on the grasses before we leave.

If we were having coffee or tea or something else, I would thank you for listening, for sharing your stories, for helping the world heal just a tiny bit, person by person, one story at a time.  I would tell you how grateful I am to all of the people who marched today, and how just watching and listening lifted my spirits and gave me hope.  And I would tell you that my days of staying home, of silencing my own voice, are over.

Goodnight, Sun.

If we were having coffee, I would thank you again for visiting, and give you a hug if you’re amenable to hugs.  There was no sunset to watch this evening because of the clouds.  I made a salad and we’re getting ready to bake some pizza for dinner.  You’re welcome to stay a while and enjoy some food with us.  Maybe you’d like to watch the movie, too.  Or we can sit around later and share more of our stories.

Be good, be kind, be loving.  Just Be.  🙂

Light in the darkness.

This post is in response to Part Time Monster’s #WeekendCoffeeShare.  Thank you to Diana for hosting it. Put the kettle on, start the coffee maker, open a bottle of wine, or whatever your preference is, and join us.  I’d love to hear all about what you were up to this week.