Wintery greetings to you.
The shortest day of the year is coming soon, the end of the calendar year is upon us. I can sense my own and the collective pull toward a space of expansive reflection. The earlier sunsets tucked behind Seattle’s blanket of clouds draw me toward my couch and candles at a bewildering hour of 4:30pm. My mind turns over the stones of recent experiences to see what’s underneath. I also get cues from my virtual environment, including my Spotify 2022 Year in Review (am I the only one surprised by what’s on my “Top Songs” playlist? 🤔). All signs indicate the season of looking back to look forward is here. I celebrate this reflective shift (even though I cringe at the ways it can be co-opted to promote more consumption). Too often we forget or don’t seem to have time to pause, reflect on the past, gather the lessons, and apply them to our future actions; slowing down enough for this process to unfold is a boon to our society that often runs at a frenzied pace (read about the possibility of intentional pacing here).
Among the many realizations that may surface in this season of reflection are the things left unsaid or otherwise unexpressed through writing, art, music, dance, and all the beautiful, diverse ways we communicate our truths to the world. What’s left unsaid includes the messages that live in our minds, hearts, imaginations, and guts that have not been heard—by parts or all of ourselves, by people in our lives, by others beyond our circles. It’s the “Ouch, that hurt” to a biting remark or a micro-aggression, the countless I love you’s that feel vulnerable or inappropriate in certain contexts, the requests for help, the no’s, the yes’s. What’s left unsaid also includes the words that we yearn to hear—from a mother, a lover, a friend, a stranger. It’s the attunement never received from a primary caretaker during childhood, the welcome in a new community that could blossom into belonging, the affirmation from someone we look up to, the allegiance to our own self-worth. We all have our own collection of things left unsaid sitting on the shelves of our lives. But unlike trinkets collecting dust, these messages are alive within us, moving in a constant cycle from the depths of our psyche to the surface and down again as we navigate relationships and interactions with the world around us.
There are many wise reasons for not speaking our truths. As silence can be weaponized and violent, such as when it’s used to maintain dominant systems of oppression, it can also be necessary, strategic, protective, powerful. We can honor and respect the ways in which silence has served and continues to serve people who are denied and are fighting for their basic needs of safety, dignity, and belonging (cue Cory Henry’s “Fighting for Peace” now). And at the same time, we can also bear witness to the grief of words left unspoken; words caught in our throats, bellies, and chests; words that our ears long to meet. It can be deeply painful to not express nor have the opportunity to be witnessed in what you feel. It can cut even deeper when we are so armored that we cannot receive precious words spoken to us and allow ourselves to be touched by them—even if we’ve been waiting to hear those words our entire lives.
To withhold our truths from others is ultimately a practice of dishonesty, according to bell hooks in All About Love. I remember being struck by this concept. I had always thought that my own difficulty to express my true preference or desire regarding seemingly trifling matters was only impacting myself, not the other person. But to consider this withholding to be dishonest shifted my perspective. hooks writes, "Commitment to truth-telling lays the groundwork for the openness and honesty that is the heartbeat of love." After letting this idea simmer for awhile, I have come to understand that speaking my truth, and encouraging others to do so as well, is aligned with the quality of relationships I seek and the way of being I want to embody.
When embarking on a journey of embodied transformation, we often address what’s getting in the way of a person’s authentic communication and build the competencies within themself to speak their truth. Equally important is to help the armored, wounded parts of a person hear the specific messages they need to receive. This process involves meeting those tender parts with unconditional compassion and love. All of this we do in relationship with sensations in the body, which guide us toward what needs tending and what needs to be spoken.
As the winter solstice approaches, I open to the messages living within me that are asking to be shared or released. I wonder what might happen if we didn’t leave things unsaid? How might we find healing within ourselves and our lineages? How might speaking our truths shift what is possible for our collective future? I invite you into the cave of reflection to see what insights, and light, might be inside (draw on some inspiration from poet Paul Tran). Perhaps you discover a gem of information and gather some courage along the way so that you might share the beauty of truth with another and open yourself to love.
Please reach out with reflections, questions, and thoughts. I welcome them with gratitude.
Warmly,
Em Wright
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