Don't Speak

I wrote my blog earlier this week, but this morning I just don't have the heart to post it.

So, it will have to wait.

Problem is, I'm fresh out of words. After a slaughterhouse of a week, I find I am left with far more questions than answers. So, I plan to spend this Sunday welcoming spring among the wildflowers here in Austin. I pray they will have some of the answers I need -- the ones that come without words, but with the reminder that no matter how tough the winter, we will all bloom come spring.

To not risk speaking one's truth is to be complicit in the deceit against which one is speaking. But to speak one's truth and feel that it has never really been heard is almost worse than being silenced.

I hope one day to find a way to co-create an ethics of love that allows the disappeared, the dispossessed and the silenced to speak AND to be heard -- in a way that creates change and healing for everyone. But today, from a place of feeling silenced, and holding in my heart someone I love who has been disappeared with a very pretty can of spiritual pink paint, I pray to know my next step. I hope to find it among my wildflower friends, both human and floral.

So, I leave you with what is probably the shortest blog I have ever written or am ever likely to write. . .but not without invoking one of my go-to daily practices of joy -- finding humor in even my darkest moments. Although the start of 2016 has brought a shit storm of epic proportions. . .I have tried to write myself whole and speak my truth. But this week, I finally cried uncle -- and something happened that everyone who has ever known me has prayed for for five decades -- my parents, every school principal, every partner, my friends, all of my teachers: I Shut Up! 

My ex-partner used to quote this hilarious scene to me often -- but I'd heard it before. . .I'd heard it my whole life!

This week I don't speak.

I listen.

I pray.

I hope for the healing in the only place it can ever happen, inside my heart.

And I hope, too, that somewhere in heaven and on earth, all the Dianne Wiests of my life, who have peppered my life with their "Don't speak"s, are doing their happy dances!

But y'all had better make it quick. I probably won't shut up for long. . .


We respect your email privacy