I wanted to be loud.
Loud enough that no one could ignore me. Loud enough so that everyone would turn. Loud enough to not be forgotten.
(Louder than others.)
But I’ve grown into a magick that is soft with belonging.
Belonging to your heart. Belonging to a moment. Belonging to the gentle rush of air in the middle of a hot day. Belonging to a world that includes starfish and sunsets and an ever-turning wheel of bud to blossom to death and grow once more.
Belonging to quiet moments.
The Loud World
If you are a being with a quiet touch, I honor you. We are a quiet group, an often steady, thoughtful group. Beings who take in and explore before saying a word. (If we say anything at all.)
This makes our inner world a safe place, a controllable place, and a place where we can make quiet mistakes and missteps, with no one being the wiser.
Out ‘there’ is the loud. The noise. The so many words and so many possibilities and so many people to understand (but mostly not).
There is just so much GOING ON. Sifting through it all is tiring, for me anyway. So, I keep quiet and listen. I wait for the bigger picture, the overall energy to reveal itself to me. That’s when I speak up. But it can also mean that I’m slower (seemingly) to say something. Or that I’m not participating ‘enough.’
What the heck is ‘enough’ in a world that never shuts up?
I invite the possibility that you are able to be just as you are and that long pauses and deep breaths are a blessing. The ones who watch are just as valuable and just as wise. This isn’t a competition of words. Or a battle of the sharpest wisdom.
In fact, I encourage you, in the moment it begins to feel like your jaw is clenching and you feel that rush of I-have-to-say-something: don’t. Breathe an extra breath. Close your eyes. Turn your gaze to the beautiful thing across the room or the horizon.
Become the stillness, where everything returns, in time. It’s a gift in this loud world.
It’s the magick of the in-between spaces.
It’s the surrender.
It’s an act of trust to let spaces be empty.
Let there be longing and echoing sometimes.
Let it become what it is.
A place for something to be born.