Dear readers,
I love to sing, I'm not a great singer with a silvery toned voice, my voice is a nice voice, not formally trained, but not awful. I love to sing. yet as far back as I can remember someone has been telling me not to sing.
As this last few weeks draw to a close, July turning into August, the dog days of summer come with fire, heralding the star Sirius who has returned to claim status in the night sky, bringing with it the energy of personal change and enlightenment. I have thought over all the events the month of July has brought, both personally and world wide. For me this has been a month of facing suppression, in our world there have also been many types of suppression, suppression seeking to stop a voice from speaking, to stop many voices from speaking in many different countries. Its so very easy to lose our song of life when suppression in any form presses down.
In an exchange of emails with a dear friend who came into my life almost 15 years ago. Fifteen years, where does the time go, its so long ago, but seems like yesterday. Time has a way of shrinking the older one gets, what youth sees as an event from very long ago, age sees as just the day before, the length of life as we feel time, suddenly becoming very short as we find ourselves in the mid-Autumn of our lives on the slope towards Winter, and our old age. Ten years are nothing in the scope of time, just a few short days ago, when time reveals her immensity and infinity, something not seen until we reach a certain age, if we are lucky enough even then to understand time.
My friend came teaching that it was OK to sing my song as loud and as brilliant as I want to and when I forget that I can sing, she reminds me that I know how to find my voice and encourages me to sing again when I have shut down.
My dear friend sings a song as well, her song is the most beautiful one I have ever heard, she sings quietly, telling the story of humanity to whoever will listen. She sings over the bones, (a story from Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes's book, Women Who Run With the Wolves) as she walks along the road.
This road of life, my friend offered, was a road that as I walked along it's way I would find I would not be able to take everyone I loved along with me, for this was my journey and each of us have our own journey. She taught me that we could share that road with dear ones, if they wished to travel with us, but it might not be for the whole distance and that sometimes the walk would bring about clashing wills and beliefs. She taught me there may be people who could walk with each other on this road, for the journey of life, the whole way, individual and different but together.
My friend taught me how to sing the walking song of life. Walking song...I think there is a poem here...I'm going to go let it out...
Dear readers, the song came, spilling out, wanting to be born and sung. I offer this song to you.
The Walking Song. Dedicated with love to my dear friend, Carmen, bone singer, myth keeper, story teller, friend.
The Walking Song
by Edna Johnson July 30, 2012
Come walk with me along this road, this road of many colors
Come walk with me through rain and shine, the way is long, the climb is high
Come walk with me through toil and grime, through sparkle and shine
Come walk with me
Come walk with me
Come walk with me through youths sweet laughter
Come walk with me through mid-life banter
Come walk with me through senior days
Come walk with me
Come walk with me
Come walk with me through summer showers
Come walk with me through falls great bowers
Come walk with me when days grow colder
Come walk with me
Come walk with me
Come walk with me along this road, this road of many colors
Come walk with me my dearest friend, the road is long, right to the end
Come walk with me through this wondrous life, this beautiful life
Come walk with me
Come walk with me
Come walk with me
Also posted on the Day Dreams page>
w/deepest respect....find your voice.
Also posted on the Day Dreams page>
w/deepest respect....find your voice.
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