"where you listen generously, you agree unconditionally to the importance of this. you become, little voice, an audience to another life, regardless of the tears that choke it or fears that snap at its heels— just as ears give a song the permission to exist beyond a voice."
I don't know exactly where to begin or how to eloquently opine here. This particular article was beyond me. It was somewhere dense above the bold skies and below the deepened Universe. Listening is an Art form. Poets & other troubadours knew this instinctively. I suppose I once understood too. There is so much to this life that even me who tries to grasp these silent languages with an open soul. Music is everywhere. The dance of willow trees ruffling, the sound of a zen wind in the distance. We are super connected. Maybe I'm not as emotionally intelligent as I tried to express. I've been trying to touch the invisible audience in poetry. I've felt so many repeated moments that I failed to translate the metaphors. I do feel detachment welcomes change and self discovery. I've been denied so I have to apply new tools. Thank you little voices. This December has been about listening to things again. My heart needs to filled. Sensitive and intuitive.
- your 'emotional intelligence' (or maybe the head hidden inside of your Heart?) is not only be measured by what it does for others: it is measured also by how willing- and therefore wonderful- you are to extend it to the miracle around you. the voices included.
- you have touched your invisible audience because the invisible audience is yourself. as soon as you begin to try to write for others, you are operating in a mode of self-translation that necessarily eradicates authenticity. be the 'secretary of what us invisible' inside of you. write only for yourself and in a language only you can possibly understand. then, conversely, you will touch the invisible other, who will be drawn in by your radical honesty. trust me, little voice. trust yourself.
what is it that lucille clifton writes? "come celebrate/ with me that everyday/ something has tried to kill me/ and has failed.
"for another little voice to speak their story into existence, and for you to listen, is to draw the voice of their inner life into the world: or, in other words, to permit it an existence in reality." beautiful! i love this piece. thank you!! XO
"where you listen generously, you agree unconditionally to the importance of this. you become, little voice, an audience to another life, regardless of the tears that choke it or fears that snap at its heels— just as ears give a song the permission to exist beyond a voice."
d e l i c i o u s
and you, little voice <3 how is your Heart today?
(hugging you)
I don't know exactly where to begin or how to eloquently opine here. This particular article was beyond me. It was somewhere dense above the bold skies and below the deepened Universe. Listening is an Art form. Poets & other troubadours knew this instinctively. I suppose I once understood too. There is so much to this life that even me who tries to grasp these silent languages with an open soul. Music is everywhere. The dance of willow trees ruffling, the sound of a zen wind in the distance. We are super connected. Maybe I'm not as emotionally intelligent as I tried to express. I've been trying to touch the invisible audience in poetry. I've felt so many repeated moments that I failed to translate the metaphors. I do feel detachment welcomes change and self discovery. I've been denied so I have to apply new tools. Thank you little voices. This December has been about listening to things again. My heart needs to filled. Sensitive and intuitive.
- your 'emotional intelligence' (or maybe the head hidden inside of your Heart?) is not only be measured by what it does for others: it is measured also by how willing- and therefore wonderful- you are to extend it to the miracle around you. the voices included.
- you have touched your invisible audience because the invisible audience is yourself. as soon as you begin to try to write for others, you are operating in a mode of self-translation that necessarily eradicates authenticity. be the 'secretary of what us invisible' inside of you. write only for yourself and in a language only you can possibly understand. then, conversely, you will touch the invisible other, who will be drawn in by your radical honesty. trust me, little voice. trust yourself.
what is it that lucille clifton writes? "come celebrate/ with me that everyday/ something has tried to kill me/ and has failed.
sending you love.
you make me want to be so much better than i am
you are larger, more wonderful than you know.
These are not little voices. Listen to Frost or Yeats speak their own, and know how large is that voice.
Thank you. I need to hear what you mean, because I don't know what you mean so very often.
Is there any better example of why we need each other?
'how large is that voice' - i think you should continue to write whatever words wanted to blossom after these.
something small, for yourself. even as a whisper. even as a yell.
as a series of words it made me soar somewhere untouchable.
thank you. happy new year, gentle new year. <3
"for another little voice to speak their story into existence, and for you to listen, is to draw the voice of their inner life into the world: or, in other words, to permit it an existence in reality." beautiful! i love this piece. thank you!! XO
thank you for your ear, little voice. <3 it is an ecstatic thing to listen- even moreso to celebrate what you have heard <3
This is absolutely gorgeous. Thank you.
thank you, little voice. <3