Though I do love your roar!!!!
Hello lovely people! Happy Sunday. I have this line sectioned off in my journal between two other entries.
A quote from a song.
(divider line)
(then)
9.12.23
Sweet Child,
I can hear your whispers
(though I do love your roar!!!)
I hear you, my love
(divider line)
9.13.23
(next entry)
I was flipping through for some ideas on a prompt and this one entry stuck out to me. It’s a fun and dangerous thing to flip back on journal entries. To read poems from long ago (meaning a few weeks or months). The concept of time becomes very apparent and contradictive to the versions of myself spread across the pages. I can see myself change day to day. Literally in my handwriting. In the size of the font. Yet, I feel the same. Yet, different. I’ll read something and not know who wrote it. My eyes are new. That entry got me here. All the while feeling like I know her soul through her handwriting. Because I do.
A beautiful, wild thing.
The prompt today is simple. What are your whispers? What are your roars?
Eight years ago, a group of women sat in a circle every Friday evening in our yoga teacher training. It was everything you’d expect a circle of women to be, and more. At the end of the training our teacher gave us each a set of mala beads. It was tradition that your first set come from your teacher. She infused them with words.
We are infused with words. We are born and infused with a word. Our name. We marry and fuse our relationship with words. Words bring us only so close to the Divine, but we try.
She infused my mala beads with the words “gentle roar.” It felt like the namesake to who I’d be as a teacher and my evolution as a student of the practice. I don’t know if she knew how much I needed these two words. To no surprise, I’m a quiet student. I observe. I listen. I integrate in my own internal way. She mentioned this and the contrast of my voice, posture and style when teaching yoga. A roar. A gentle roar.
It was the first time I wasn’t described as quiet or shy. It was the first time, with the help of a few words, I changed the story I believed about myself. It never made sense. I was quiet, but then why was my throat burning for so many things to say? I was shy, but then why was I craving to share my wisdom?
You can be gentle and roaring. I can be gentle and roaring.
What are your whispers? What has Wisdom been trying to get through to you?
Start the prompt with “Sweet Child I can hear your whispers” as if it truly is wisdom talking. Write the whispers
Sometimes it’s easier to write as if the Voice is speaking to someone else. Like that whole “my friend needs advice but you are the friend” thing.
What are your roars? Write the roars
Notice the contrast of the poem
End the poem with “I hear you my love”
I can’t wait to read your words. If you feel like sharing, comment your poem below.
Much love
Nicole