Background: I belong to a writers group, a collection of strong, wise, and creative women who meet on a weekly basis for an hour and a half to meditate together, respond to crazy prompts with a ten-minute quick-write, and then share what we have written. I have been working with these women for four years; the group has been together for seven. Sometimes…actually often… the members write as if their minds coalesce into one mind. This offering is one of those times. A few members have agreed to share with me, and allowed me to publish their writing on a meditation prompt for the night of December 14, 2020.
I present their voices, and my own, as I invite you to think about what it means to express your truth. I would love to hear from you. (To any man that reads this blog, I do not mean to exclude you. I just happen to be a woman who belongs to an all-female writers group. There is no discrimination, here.)
Either reply to this post, or if you feel you don’t want to share publicly you can reach out to me at email@example.com. Please be sure to include “blog reply” in the message in case your unknown email gets sent to my spam file. I will look for you.
Joyce Ann Campbell
In the quantum view of this world, I am a vibrating, radiating field of electrical energy dressed for winter in the Sierra foothills.
Magnetic forces within me attract exactly what I need, but not always what I want.
Activity in the back of my head goes round and round in memories, alternating with my imagination, fishing for the future. In between, my mind rests in the present, witnessing and resounding to life within and surrounding me.
And, beyond that, my energies ripple endlessly into space, and flow back to me, pen in hand.
To freely express my truth…what does that mean?
It means to express in an unhindered way, without restraint, holding guilt or fear.
It means to let out what calls to be released in a space expansive enough to allow it to exist. A space in which it is able: to wind its way along rivers of tears and oceans of heartache, to waft through foggy memories and unexplored fields, to percolate up from the muck and mire and finally find the sun.
Laurayne Mae offers the second prompt of the night, “I Am This Kind of Person – But Not Like That.” Her writing always speaks her truth and her piece, Big Grief, is no exception.
Stuck. Sticky stuck.
Can’t lift my feet to see what kind of person I am – let alone what I am not like.
So many changes in such a sick, short span.
Terrifying times, globally, nationally, personally.
Stuck. Sticky stuck. Who am I now?
Who I am in this moment is one who feels. I feel sadness and loss. They weave themselves into grief.
Amel Tafsout returns to the original meditation prompt, “Freely Express Your Truth” in Don’t Burn the Chicken Wings!
“Don’t burn the chicken wings!” he said.
“You already told me that!” I said.
“Why do you react this way?” he said.
“I just would like you not to repeat it to me so many times!” I said.
“I want to be free to talk to my wife… you are never here!” he said.
“You are picking on me all the time!” I said.
“Here we go, that’s why I am afraid of you!” he said.
“You don’t need to be afraid of me, but try to understand me!” I said.
“I just want a peaceful morning!” he said.
“Me too, but you don’t realize that you are picking on me most of the
time!” I said.
“Here we go again with your pride!” he said.
“I may overreact but there is a reason and I am asking you not to do it!” I
“Now my morning is destroyed!” he said.
I kept quiet thinking why can he not see my way when I am trying to make him understand that I have been blamed so many times in my life and I want to change that to heal myself from it? Am I talking another language? Obviously, I am!
Here is another from Amel Tafsout, called Beheading Me. I choose to leave it as is, with no editing from me. It is a powerful piece about an actual event. Amel is a powerful dancer and one of her online photos was defiled.
Hey, You, how dare you delete my face, decapitate me and replace me with a Western white blond blue eyed woman, a sexual object such as Marilyn Monroe!
In my real photo my face is all power, a power that you will never understand – standing my ground in strength, power and beauty like our Amazigh-Berber warrior Queen Kahina, looking at you directly and saying to you I am!
I am that woman from the era of shamans and priestesses, who can make of you dust in one look!
A primal woman connected with ai, water, earth, fire and ether!
A woman who can rip you in pieces while doing nothing.
I am that Amazigh woman, proud of her roots and transcending her ancestry that you are ignoring and disrespecting!
Beheading me will harm you, replacing my powerful womanhood to a sexual object won’t work!
Making money off of me will follow you in hell! And you will get served what you deserve!
I am the power of all energies, gathered in the eye of the tornado that will sweep you away in a second!
AV Singer – Now I ask you
Is it fair for me to express my truth freely? For me, to myself, it is essential. For others, I find it more prudent to allow them space to express their truths while not imposing upon them mine. Why do I do this? Is it a lack of trust? Maybe. But, do we give others a chance to speak their truths or are we so wrapped in self? Maybe I feel most are not yet steady enough in truths of their own to carry my burdens. So I keep it hidden while remaining softly alert, waiting for their truth to manifest.
This is true for many women in the world. They quietly wait. Subjugated and repressed, not only are they silent, many have not had the chance to explore self, to know they have truths. They need space to learn what it means to be fully feminine. They need teachers. Those of us given time and guidance to do so must afford them the space for this vital expression of what it means to fully own womanhood.
Postscript: Waiting…waiting…waiting. Peace be with you as you travel through your week. AnaValarie