Let Your Life Speak

“Ask me whether what I have done, is my life.” –William Stafford

This singular thought stopped me. 

It’s profoundness lies in its simple (yet necessary) inner-quest to explore one’s ability, and/or capacity, to have fully become a willing participant in one's own life. Truly, it takes courage to encourage others to hear, learn and explore their own lives for proof of existence. It reminds me of Jorge Luis Borges’ quote: “I am not sure I exist, actually. I am all the writers that I have read, all the people that I have met all the women that I have loved; all the cities I have visited.” Yet, who am I? Who are we?

Recently, I have come to fully accept that it is entirely possible to live a life that is not your own. The reality that I’ve essentially suppressed my identity is no longer lost to me. But why, why have I done it?

• Out of Fear. By believing that somehow the core of my personhood is not safe in a world that does not yet know how to embrace diversity.

• Out of Misunderstanding. By not having the tools or resources to navigate a system of oppression, I’ve come to believe it is better to conform than to be beaten into submission.

• Out of Necessity. By believing the psychological pain is more tenable than the physiological pain I decided to align with a system that promises democracy, capital and fulfillment in exchange for identity. The truth is it’s always been an us-and-them playground. It’s always been spelled out simply: conform or die.

So the life I’ve lived has been one of servitude; aligned perfectly with a white middle-class culture’s worldview. A slave, though undercover, of the first order.

Oh it appeared to be me, living, being, adjusting to life as a satisfied imposter. But it was never real; or satisfying; or remotely joyous. How can it be when you are a fraction of your true self. How can one ever be full—truly full—when the filling is reversed? When what’s outside confiscates what's inside? Is it ever possible to live a full, loving, joyous, enveloped life from the outside in? Can one ever truly see, more less be, self?  

I’m reminded of Diana Ross’ classic, Theme from Mahogany: Do you know where you’re going to? Do you like the things life is showing you? I’ve spent so many years of my life silencing my life’s voice. Refusing it the option to speak—regulating it to the outskirts of my life, while pretending to enjoy the richness of the outer world’s incessant chant. Pretending its call was to me for me, and not to me for them. But now as I sit considering as clearly as I have ever in my life the idea that my life’s voice has long been crying out to me—to hear, to listen, to be, so that I may be that which I was born to be—is clear.

In my ignorance, I’ve been telling my life what it is, how it should be, and why it should be without listening to what it is. Without seeing it. Without honoring it.

What is it that your life wants? What is it that your life desires? What is it that it is crying out to be? Can you stand still and listen? Can you stand still and hear the clarity that is your life’s voice? Can you stand still and be present with it as it develops its capacity to lead you in the direction of what serves you? The full you? The true you? The honest you?

Try as you might, you will never succeed living within someone else’s or something else’s truth. Only you have the clues and tools needed to unlock your truth. Only you have the ability to fully unleash the power of your life—the reason behind your birth. Only you have the ability to be—only you have the ability to see your truth.

Where do I/we go from here? We go within, and turn from the pull of external identity cultivation; turn, from the feelings of insignificance; turn, from the feelings of scarcity; turn, from the feelings of inequity. You are and have always been enough. In your haste to be all that you are not, you forgot. But your life’s voice has not. It has always known you were the best of creations; the best of what is called life.

So, turn. Turn and change your mind. Let your life’s voice speak.

Trust its push. Trust its pull. Trust, that the path it leads you to will always be a life that is your own.