To Be Seen & Heard
Telling stories.
Before I headed out on a family reunion road trip last month, I wrote down some intentions. The overall purpose of the trip was for my mom to see and visit with every one of her grandchildren and great-grandchildren and for them to get to know her. It was all about making connections. I also wanted every child to know that they are part of a bigger family and to nurture that sense of belonging — to be seen and heard. After all, isn’t that what all of us want? I had lofty ideas of each family sitting in a circle around the campfire playing games and sharing stories, passing the talking stick, and letting their voices be heard. To be honest, I don’t even like those games myself, but still, I thought I could make it fun. I shared my ideas with my older sister and she suggested that although she thought it was a great idea I might be better off not having a big agenda. She was right. As I thought about it more, I realized that the younger children in my family don’t know me at all, and my good intentions might just scare them away from their “crazy aunt.” So instead, I listened and observed and gave the little ones some time to get to know me and their great-grandmother in their own time, on their own turf.
On one occasion, I watched as my niece’s 5-year old son threw his arms up in the air, exasperated, and yelled “ARE YOU KIDDING ME? THAT’S NOT HOW WE PLAY THIS GAME!” His 5-year old cousin calmly looked at him and explained that these were the new rules she had just made up. Later that afternoon, the children sat around the dinner table together and proceeded to tell their own stories, not forced, or put on the spot. I listened while they each competed for a chance to be heard. They talked of ponies, and dinosaurs and the naughty things their younger siblings did. Although children learn from those around them and try-on the different phrases and expressions they hear, they will always have a unique voice — one that will stay with them their entire lives.
My nephew Josh and his son Noah.
I never realized how defining a person’s voice is. I haven’t seen my Auntie Jeanne for over thirty years, but when she spoke, her voice took me back to the same Auntie Jeanne I remembered from my childhood. It conjured up images of a big swordfish hanging on the wall, of going out on the boat, and sipping on a tall glass of ice-cold Coca Cola. Although many years have passed and she has been through a lot, she’s still the same aunt I have always loved. And then there’s my nieces and nephews. A lot has changed since the last time I saw them. They now have their own families and all the tough life decisions that come with them. But when I heard them talk, it was like I had just seen them last week. Their voices still sounded the same.
Making up songs.
In my fifty-plus years on this earth, I am just now realizing how powerful a person’s voice is, including my own. My body needs the sound vibrations of my voice to heal — to clear tension and blockages so that the energy can flow freely. As I thought about this I remembered that when I first began performing my songs, I would totally lose my voice right before the show and couldn’t sing. I still get a shaky voice when I speak in an intimate group setting, but it’s getting easier. I know now that my voice is a channel for the truth that lives deep inside me. I guess that’s why I started writing songs. It was a way for me to express myself and to be heard without having to explain myself — because it’s just a song.
I have spent a lifetime on self-improvement. In my mind, I have changed a lot through the years, but this last trip made me question that assessment of myself. If my voice is still the same, have I really changed as much as I think I have? Or is there a pure core, an essence, a voice that stays the same, regardless of everything I do?
