Voice Box

Tuesday night, I headed east with the full moon acting as my guide. My goal was clear. This wasn’t a solo hike. It was a quest of sorts, a mission. There was a schedule. There were specific parameters to work within. I intended to release an idea by speaking words rather than simply writing them. To be clear, it was the idea that needed to be liberated, and I was the only one that could do it.

I have been attending a monthly event called Voice Box for the last year. Two months ago, I decided that I love this group of storytellers. I love this concept. I decided I wanted to get on stage and tell everyone how and why I love VB. And by “WANTED,” I don’t mean wanted at all. I had to– HAD to like someone afraid of heights HAS to jump out of a plane. It was determined. Part of me made these arrangements while another part of me looked on in horror, planning my escape. I could get sick or stuck in traffic. I could forget. It was only 2-3 minutes, an introduction that anyone could do, I argued with my planning self. Yet in the end, here I was, following the moon.

The good thing about introducing the first person is that one can acclimate to the stage, as no one is paying attention. I looked beyond the edge of the stage at the audience. I have been part of the audience many times in the last year. I know these people, maybe not the individuals but the group. The group’s intention is pure and good. They will catch me. They will not let me fall. They will laugh with me, not at me. I can try my wings here –this crazy idea of SPEAKING my words. I am safe. I know all these things as I take a deep breath and step forward. I try not to look at the mic as I lean in. I open my mouth and practiced careful words well from my throat.

I remember my words. I go slowly. I respect the story. This is all about the story. And Maureen. And Cathy. And Voice Box. I feel brave because this isn’t about me. It is about sharing this idea; this idea has to be free.

Toward the end, I say, “We gather around and warm our hands. We open our hearts. We laugh and sing and heal our wounds. It’s beautiful. It’s” … It’s what? I lost the word. I paused. I was uncharacteristically NOT panicked. I WAS confused. What was the word I had so carefully chosen? It was gone. Then my lips whispered the word “sacred.” I felt a ripple of agreement vibrate through the room. Sacred it is. Sacred it was.

This experience left me with an overwhelming sense of being heard, heard like I have never been heard in my life. Being heard is kind of a big deal. I wish every person this sense of having their words welcomed, examined, savored and embraced by others. I wish every person a safe place like Voice Box.

11/15/21 Two years have passed. I want to share this on Wandering Thoughts because it was a tremendous growth experience. Voice Box doesn’t exist anymore, but I am forever indebted to Cathy Richardson, Maureen Muldoon and especially Terry Faloon for introducing me to the magic of Voice Box. The experience gave me the courage to officiate at weddings, speak at funerals and gather communities for end-of-life celebrations. If someone needs words shared, I am honored and simply say YES.