Breaking through silence
I am the destilled potion of the women I Inhabit; the sand on the shell , the shell in the ocean, and the pearl herself.
Breaking through silence.
Finding Our Voice After Tragedy
Tragedy has a way of silencing us, leaving us feeling lost and broken. The weight of grief and pain can not only suffocate our voices, but put in doubt our deepest love for the world and ourselves. Tragedy brings the heart into unpolished fragments of a world that can never be put back together again. If we allow it, if we don’t have too much resistance, or too many people pending on us, we can let go into a deep darkness. I am not talking about psychological darkness only but the darkness of the soul.
When the entire world colapses in a massive explosion at the center of your home the fragments, sharp like shark teeth, cover the ground you step on every morning; when the sky becomes heavy with dark presence and the body doesn’t belong to your any more, then, the heart is open wide; there is no narrative, no sides to be taken, no politics: nothing.
We are constantly held in the unknown of life, and we often only have the pain we feel to remind us that we're alive. It took me a long time to realize and admit the extent of my pain, which consumed me entirely - it existed within every part of me, in every bone and every breath. It existed in all of those around me who had to experience the same tragedy and still having to keep breathing, it was hard work.
Grief is not lineal, but a journey with no beginning and no end, and just when I think I found a path in the dark it cess to exist and I drop from the edge of the hole in the roots of the Light tree in the sky, falling down with the full weight of my body like the woman from the Sky People, trusting that some thing, some wild animal may save me from cruching agains the waves of a stormy sea.
This was a time to just be with what it is and for long time that is all what there was: what it is here, now. Slowly some space was created within me for self-reflection, it is then that I got a sense of my suffering and the suffering of those around me.
One of the most powerful gifts of tragic loss is that show us what truly matters in life and if we allow that energy to travel to our heart, it can ignite a fire within, what to do with that fire is up to each one of us individually, for me, that fire is the strength that I need to find my voice and use it to bring my experience as a catalyst for change.
Allowing my voice to become a vehicle for advocacy, for raising awareness, and for inspiring others who have experienced similar pain. I know that through the power of storytelling and sharing our narratives, we not only find healing for ourselves but also create a sense of solidarity among those who have endured similar tragedies.
Finding our voice after tragedy requires vulnerability and faith in our own ability to heal, faith in the unknown, unpredictable, compassionate arms of life despite facing moments of despair.
Because the fact is that we are still breathing, we are still living, sleeping, relating and we have a choice of putting our life to be of service to others.
Grief doesn’t require strength, it requires to embrace her full body deeply, and softly and walk with the darkness into our inner resilience, so we can rise and emerge with renewed purpose and determination.
Ultimately, finding our voice after tragedy is a journey of self-discovery, growth, and transformation. It is a journey or rebirthing our awakening and It requires patience, self-compassion, and a willingness to confront the pain within us and to accept the changes in our lives, our communities, friends and family, or those who are still around!
But for me probably the most surprising aspect of taken those first tentative steps towards reclaiming my voice, is to find out that I am not alone. I am surrounded by a community of survivors, supporters, and allies who are ready to listen, uplift, and amplify my voice; and to know that I am also a survivor, a supporter, a friend and an allie to someone else!
Sometimes it is difficult recognising my own voice after the deep silence that I have and I am still inhabiting in my body; the person I was I am not longer but I am not entirely new, not like the new fresh life of a child, I am a new tumbled up and down human in the wheel of mind and heart ; between conversation and silence; from strenght and weakness; still in solitude and companion.
I am the destilled potion of the women I Inhabit; the sand on the shell , the shell in the ocean, and the pearl itself.
Don't ask me for clarity, just let me find the woman I have became and slowly recover the muscles of my heart’s voice so I can speak through silence.
