what we say we can't say

a collection of thoughts, opinions, descriptions and questions of real and unreal situations and moments contributed by several voices who think and feel this life in all it's ridiculous, complicated, beautiful, weirdo fury.

[whatwethinkwecantsay]

Mindful Writing Challenge, day 1

The explanation/invitation

I saw a thing while meandering on social media. It was free and it had to do with writing. It had to do with meditation. It combined meditation and writing and it was lightly guided, hassle and pressure free and so I decided to give it the old college try. I’m coming to terms with the fact that every day is in it’s own way day one.

Part Nil, The Mechanics:

guided breathing meditation 

poem/quote by Mary Oliver

Praying  it doesn’t have to be the blue iris,  it could be weeds in a vacant lot,  or a few small stones;  just pay attention,  then patch a few words together  and don’t try to make them elaborate,  this isn’t a contest  but the doorway into thanks,  and a silence in which another voice may speak.” ― Mary Oliver, Thirst

words to use as prompts or not at all

Few Elaborate Stone Iris Voice Doorway

Part I: the unedited freewrite

Stand back. Why do the words mean so much. Why do tears come earnestly to my sleep deprived eyes. Stand back in silence in order that another voice may come forward. It’s that. That’s it. The other voice that has stood in shadow, in silence. That voice, long silent, is being called to come forward. That’s the trigger. The other voice coming toward the page, the light, the center, the center, the stage, the center. The voice of the other. The one that stands behind that loves from a distance. I cannot smile though the voice leading this exercise asks for a smile to come forward. I cannot smile. It isn’t a time for smiling. It is a time for searching. In silence. In grief. In mourning. In giving over ourselves our selves our selves to that other voice, that voice that dream that thought that plan that we were told to hide away to stuff to silence to explain to ignore. Weren’t we watching in our lives in our escapes. Weren’t we seeing ourselves stand in the doorway. Block the doorway. Silencing that other voice. Normalizing, explaining, excusing. Excusing!! Excusing the noise, the blocks, the dark heavy figure barring the doorway, the voice, controlling the space. Controlling the expression. Asking it to validate itself. Mocking smiling joking. Everything passing through little cuts made in the dark. Little cuts and digs and silences like shovels heavy and hurtful blocking the doorway

Part II: Feedback/Reaction 

I breathed and there was peace in the breathing. I breathed and there was healing in the breath. I listened and there was inspiration in the listening, myself caving in, making a space, holding a space for the well-intentioned lines of a poem, of inspiration. Come back to the breath, her voice. Come back to the breath and the process, sings the meditating bowl. Come back to the doorway. But is the doorway where I make it? Does the doorway have a closed or open door. I remember a quote given by a friend, encouraging, that tells me that I’ve come to a doorway--or was it a gate? Or was it a wall? An impenetrable mystery. A fortress maybe? I’ve come to a place with a doorway or a gate and I am blocked, I am barred from entering. But then the second half of wisdom remembers me: I come to a wall, a doorway, a gate that I cannot pass but changed, I pass through it. Day 1, with gratitude, with patience, a willingness to stay curious, a plan lightly sketches itself under water. Every day is a day one.**

[whatwethinkwecantsay]

what do you say to that?

I am a girl in my early 40s. My sister-in-law is a girl in her early 20s. And yes, that is supposed to sound as problematic as you imagine but at times it’s true, you know. Womanhood and girlhood are fluid states, I feel. I think we get into trouble, as humans, when we profess to be only one thing, to fall into one category only. How limiting is that? 

__[edit/update: I choose to Identify as a cisgender female, girl, woman and my pronouns are she and her]__ Sometimes she vents about the goings-on at her job where she and her coworkers clean commercial aircraft for one of the major airline companies. 99% of what she tells me of the behavior of her male coworkers toward her is sickening and cringe-worthy. Harassment is a pleasant picnic of a word for what she’s has had to continue to deal with. And I have to tell you that I really do find myself thinking, how would I have responded to THAT in my day if I had been in that situation? Would I have been as level-headed? Would I have made it worse on myself, in the end? 

Why do we think this way? Why are we females alone entrusted with the Olympic torch of politeness and common human decency? Why do we, in some instances, over-think the slightest detail of a casual conversation and yet somehow still allow some drooling, fever-brained, slime-ball, low-life sleaze-bag to make us feel less than our true regal, mighty selves? The reaction should be as swift and impressive as the hand of justice. The reaction should leave a welt the size of that male coworker’s job. We women and girls, __[edit: human beings of any creed, color or gender identity]__ should be believed, heard, and encouraged to expect far better than we’ve had. 

Whaddya say to that?!