I spent last week at home with a fever and sore throat. This meant I slept through most of the early part of the week. I had strange dreams and memories come and go. I had to rest. And be quiet. And rest some more. By mid-week, my fever broke and I lost my voice. I couldn’t speak. Everything felt strained. As my quietness deepened, I took an inventory of all the times I lost my voice.
When did my voice become a whisper?
What silences me?
Where is my voice in the world?
I had a lot of time to meditate. I took time to notice the places of not being heard. I listened for what rises up within me from silence.
Daily silent meditation brought a few insights:
I am curious about when my voice becomes a shout and when it is a voice of clarity.
I am still learning to sift through the noise and listen to the vibration of sounds.
I am open to hearing my own voice – quiet, clear, and full of love and peace.
I am attuned to moments when I choose quiet and when I feel silenced.
Now, more questions arise:
When do I lose my voice?
And what brings it back?
Are the whispers of my heart ready to be heard?
Maybe we all need to lose our voice to truly discover what need to be voiced.