This is a post I did as part of Kathleen Prophet’s “Remembering the Witches” series. My fellow contributors are Amy Palko, Emilie Kate Archer, Laurie Rosenfeld, and Katheen.
Hundreds of years ago I would’ve been put to death for what I think and feel, and who I am.
Perhaps I was. I speak the unspeakable.
Speaking The Unspeakable
Magic is simply making the unseen seen, a shift in perception, or the
unspoken heard. It is an honoring of worldly (and otherworldly)
nature and our own.
The unspeakable is your wild wisdom, your intuition and your deep
desire: a holy trinity of extravagant power in everyday women. The
unspeakable is both unique and collective. The unspeakable is a
departure from what no longer serves you. To speak it gives voice and
action to your truth.
Unspoken truths are a muzzle on the soul with the whispers of your
heart marking time by carving notches into its walls, like a forgotten
prisoner of an innocent crime. Speaking the unspeakable transforms it.
It becomes our magic and our power. What we can’t say rules us, and we
are not meant to be ruled.
What will happen if you fan the flames of your truth, breathe air into its starved lungs or give words to your the feelings?
Standing in your truth and owning it is also remembering the witches-
the wise women and men who lived by their own lights, intuition and
desires: l
es sages-femmes, j
ordmødrene, healers,
teachers, storytellers and more. It’s honoring your lineage and sending
up a smile to those that came before you and answering the dreams of
those who will come after you.
Without owning our full selves, our wings are clipped. A bird can
still sing for its master but never the song of her own experience,
never the call of her own desire. She will miss her own flight and her
own soaring.
Wise women throughout the ages have known The Rule of Threes.
Whatever you put out there will come back to you threefold. It’s
exponential. And so are you. A bird with wings.
Speaking your truth, your desire.
Your bones know. They are tuning forks for the soul. When we strike
the right note, we feel it in our marrow. Deep knowing comes from
within. The bones that give our earthly bodies structure also carry the
resonance of our truth. For our souls to sing, this truth must be
spoken. Transformation. Magic. Without it harmony is off and we are
either sharp or flat with the subtlest vibrato of melancholy.
Speaking the unspeakable is a moment of death. It is the time
between the removal of the respirator mask and breathing on our own. It
is a gasp we lose and a heartbeat we drop. It’s in the pause we
discover it’s not our lives we’ve surrendered, but our suffering. We
come alive.
A call to speaking the unspeakable is not a call against men. It is
not a rallying cry to triumph over the masculine. We need that too.
But the world needs our healing and our touch. The masculine is the
steward, the feminine is the earth. We are both. Our soul is like a
Raven between them.
The unspeakable is that you are a wise woman, a fount of the
feminine: maiden, mother and crone. Wise and full of desire. The
unseen seen, is making that desire a reality and using that wisdom.
The time is here. You can say it and you can live it. You’ve put
your ear to the ground and have heard the terrain is safe and the tide
has changed. It’s your turn. It’s our turn again, and it will remain
so. We must be heard and we want to hear you. Your unspeakable truth
is the elixir the world needs. It’s bigger than you and it’s within
you. It’s the stuff of the stars and longs to return to the night.
You, my dear are sacred. Be heard.
”If you have yet to be called an incorrigible, defiant woman, don’t worry, there is still time…”
~Clarissa Pinkola Estés