It is that holy poetry and singing we are after. We want powerful words and songs that can be heard underwater and over land. It is the wild singing we are after, our chance to use the wild language we are learning by heart under the sea. When a woman speaks her truth, fires up her intention and feeling, staying tight with the instinctive nature, she is singing, she is living in the wild breath-stream of the soul. To live this way is a cycle in itself, one meant to go on, go on, go on. —Clarissa Pinkola Estes
Speak the truth, even if your voice shakes. —Unknown
Lean in close, love. I've got an oracle to speak, a siren song to sing, a whole-holy stream of words. They are words-made-flesh, dangerous, on fire, uncontainable. I need you close enough to touch. Close enough so that when I look into the ebony orb of your eyes I see the gleam of a warm honey sun.
Listen, lovelight. Take a lavish breath, taste it, let it fill you. Draw your breath in deep, watering the dark, lush gardens of you. There is such strength in breath. Strength you need because darling, hear me when I whisper, hot and urgent in your ear: it's time. It. is. time. I don't know what your life looks like right now. I don't know what deadlines you face or the pressures you crumble from or what makes hot tears salt your pillow at night. I don't know what fear forces your breath to come ragged and your skin to ice. But I do know this. You matter and you have something to say. Your voice was made to be heard. You were made to embody your magical life, every ravishing moment of it. You have stories, secrets, desires, heartaches, vast worlds tucked away inside and your bones are cracking from the weight of them, the weight of all your worlds.
Be free. Be free. You have mattering to see to.
Tell your truth, and if your voice shakes?
Let it shake the earth.
If your knees tremble, let the ground also tremble as you rise. When your heart pounds below your skin let the rushing river of your bloodsong be your primal rhythm, the wild anthem your soul cries out when she bursts into light.
When a woman speaks her truth, she sets her soul free.
When a woman speaks her truth, she sets others free.
When a woman speaks her truth, she heals herself.
When a woman speaks her truth, she heals the world.
When a woman speaks her truth she invites, creates, heals, births, and awakens.
I need you. The world needs you. You need you. Tell me, love. What is your wild language? What song surges in your blood? What does it mean for you to live in the wild breath-stream of your soul? Grab your journal, a cup of coffee, and a quiet corner. Or write it out on your blog and share the link with me? I want to see you and your ravishing wild soul. I want to hear you. What soulstory shimmers in your bones? What secrets ache to be told? If you could blurt anything in the world, what would it be?
Love, Hillary Rain
I wrote these words almost one year ago, exactly. This was my very first article for this glorious Bohemian Collective. I will be slowing down for a season in order to concentrate on some dear projects that are needing my undivided attention. You can find my heart propped up with syllables on HillaryRain.com.