We each have a physical voice, which is the sound that comes out when we speak, and a spiritual voice, which is what we are in the world to say. In the Eastern chakra system, the spiritual voice is located in the fifth chakra--an energy center in the throat. In Western traditions it is associated with the Will and calling back the spirit. On the Jewish Tree of Life, it is associated with Judgement and Mercy.
As I usually do, last night I finished writing my blogpost and then I meditated. I concluded yesterday's post with saying, "I refuse for my conscience to stop working. I refuse to grow numb. I know that there is a connection between this behavior and me, and I will do what I can stop it..." I felt strong and "willful" as I wrote. It was almost as if I had been wagging my finger at myself, saying "Enough of this nonsense; you know what you need to do." I ended with a burst of energy.
I begin my evening meditation each evening by praying the Christian "Lord's Prayer" in Aramaic, the language that Jesus spoke. It is beautiful to my ear. I have studied it at length, and the English words that we generally associate with that prayer don't carry either the complexity or meaning that the Aramaic does. So, I say it in Aramaic. I've said it in Aramaic almost every day for close to 20 years...maybe longer.
Over the last few weeks I've noticed that my voice is gravelly when I say the prayer out loud. I've stopped several times on occasion and cleared my throat, but it continued to be weak and hoarse. Last night was a different story. The moment I started I was almost shocked by the strength and clarity of my voice. I wanted to look around and see if someone else was in the room. No. Just me. Strong, willful, and confident me, calling back my spirit.
This morning I looked back over the notes from my early January retreat at those I'd made from Caroline Myss's book Anatomy of the Spirit, in which she writes about both the chakras and the parallel meanings in Western religions. For the Fifth Chakra, my notes say "Every choice we make, every thought and feeling we have is an act of power that has consequences." It seemed to me that what I wrote last night was a kind of line in the sand about what I would and would not do or allow in the world around me. That choice was an act of power indeed.
I chatted this morning with the woman friend with whom I'd protested yesterday, and I shared how overwhelmed I'd felt. She gave me a wonderful metaphor. She said she thought of herself as just one Lego in a much bigger Lego structure: together we are building something much bigger. Ah, yes, together we are something much greater.
I've been very independent and strong in my life. In some ways that has served me well. I've been able to feed and house myself and plan for my future. I take my spiritual growth, my soul's intentions and commitments, and my integrity very seriously.
Yet I must also own that I put a lot on myself. My friend gave me the lens of interdependence and what we can do together. That is not something I've been good at. Being part of something bigger, much bigger. Today I did a few little things, and I didn't worry that they were little things. I was just doing my part; even though I might have put the bar higher, I believe that is all I am asked to do.
As I think back over the spiritual lessons of the last few days, and my commitment to make the next part of my spiritual journey be about the more pleasant lessons, I am certain that learning the lesson on interdependence will be a big one for me.
No comments:
Post a Comment