“This morning, I welcomed back our house spirits, the wrens. I hope they found the window box I set outside for them. They got me thinking how, in many cultures, the wren has a spiritual meaning. It’s the smallest bird with the largest voice. So today, I say, thank you for the wrens.”
The man who’d spoken to us from across our Zoom screens fell back into silence. I again closed my eyes. His words resonated with me and felt like musical vibrations in my core. It was as if, through his ministry, I’d heard the wrens sing.
This is my journey and my promise to myself: to sing, to speak, and to write. I’ll show up and make noise in the world, no matter how small or insignificant or what an impostor I might feel like because I know those fears are not the truth.
So what is?
The truth is that my voice and all our voices matter just the same. My work is to clear away all the layers of soot and cast iron from my spiritual hearth to reveal the unique, piercingly bright inner flame. No matter how much it’s encased and cut off from air, this Inner Light never goes out and always flickers with hope.
Every day of my self-expression journey, I remove the lies, doubts, and untrue stories I’ve taken into myself to clear a path to my inner spark. Then I reach out to the flame. It keeps me warm while I fan and nourish it so it grows wilder and so next time I can access it more easily. It’s the life force inside me: Spirit. It’s the home of my real voice. I need it to be free.
My mission in writing, whether for my blog, journal, memoirs, or the little notes of love and support I write to clients and friends, is to show up and share whatever needs to be expressed. To write honestly and compassionately from that inner hearth of truth.
It’s always been the same with music too: to sing a song—my song—that’s seeped out through unconscious humming since the time I was two. I’m like the wren, the small bird who’s compelled to sing. And when it does, it stirs the world with a very large voice.
Every time someone one speaks, it’s an invitation for us to do the same. In their example is a promise: that if you acknowledge the hard things and share the truth out loud, you’ll return to silence with a much deeper satisfaction than you had before. You’ll have shown up authentically and will feel better having told the truth. Love will seep out of your own heart, from yourself, to yourself, and beyond yourself. By using your voice, you’ll pass that reminder of inherent invitation on to others who’ll then experience the same catharsis, centering, and self love as you.
A testament to the power of another person’s voice—that man’s from across the Zoom space—is that I’m here now, feeling comfortable and courageous enough to use my voice in writing.
Today, I also say thank you for the wrens. They were the first honest voices to speak this morning, and thankfully our ears were open to hear their message in the space of silent worship.
I’m someone who’s already adopted the mission to express myself. Yet the wrens’ seasonal return and powerful songs are blessings. They remind me to get back to the page and warm up my voice by that bright, inner flame.