A morning excursion to The Pond at Rooster Ridge led me to today’s post and to the clarity I was seeking.
My desire to have a voice, through my writing, is based upon the intention of speaking authentically from my heart—as I hope to offer some measure of comfort to others. This journey, requires that while I speak from my heart, I simultaneously try my very best to connect with others and in doing so, take the subsequent risk of reaching out. This two-fold combination of goals had brought me to a place of confusion, which resulted in me recently questioning the direction of what I choose to write about within this blog forum.
There seems to be so many voices talking to us, at all times—quite honestly, the sounds feel more like shouts, yells and demands. Our society is in the midst of constant multi-media-communication—all screaming (tweeting, facebooking, pinning, tumbling) 24/7 for our attention! And while doing so, make the claim—that should we manage to attract some of that precious commodity to ourselves—there will be a big pay-off. Fame—with the-assumed-connected-fortune seems to be the golden ring de jour.
In all of this noise, our own voice, at times, can become—a barely audible sound.
To attempt to regain the volume control of my own voice, I visited the quiet and the motion-filled-stillness of falling water and swimming fish at The Pond at Rooster Ridge. As I studied the water the answer gently ebbed towards me—and when this answer came—it arrived in the form of a question, accompanied with a visual, symbolic illustration. It seems, I always need pictures to understand.
“What would you like your voice to do?”
The illustration presented before me was the expanding and echoing wave-rings created on the surface of the pond by the falling water as it spilled into the pond. I saw the symbolic similarity of drops of words, the gentle showering of a voice, a sprinkling of kind thoughts and good intentions—peacefully falling, gracefully impacting and echoing outward further and further and further.
With that question and illustration before me, I was once again reminded—what it is I wanted my voice to do, to say. And, I also knew it didn’t have anything to do with “selling product, increasing traffic or obtaining sponsors.” The marketable and tangible possibilities available either would or would not occur. The attention I gave to those aspects—needed to float away in this clear and cleansing water.
The connectedness I was hoping for, praying for, also, was not my task nor within my power to make happen. My work was to speak—and to do so with clarity. Perhaps for me, considering and managing multiple goals was undermining that effort or better yet, my focus.
My intention of writing my book, Lessons from the Trumpet Vine, as well as maintaining this blog and the subsequent posts is to offer hope. To inspire others to seek peacefulness and to experience a feeling of safety, calm or knowing. Success would be measured by being able to give a gift to others—granting them to be able to feel a brief respite, a rekindling or a gentle reminder of what truly serves our heart and soul. And, through that, to be encouraged to see the simple joy available to all of us.
As I gazed at the water, the fish came to the surface to feed and as they nibbled amidst wave-rings—new echos were created by their presence. I was further reminded that our purpose is to place drops of love, through words or actions upon our pond. And in doing so, the echos multiply and then continue to reach further and further and further.
I believe, each comforting voice that is heard, every word of compassion that is spoken and every kindness which is demonstrated—impacts our pond—with ripples of love.