Talking To The Wind

A few years ago I sat on a local committee whose purpose was to develop a local program of events for Canada’s 150th. The committee was made up of members of the community, organizations and local council. It was an interesting year of work that went into the project.

During one of the meetings we were brainstorming ideas on how to effectively create local awareness of the activities and encourage people to take part. One of the ladies, Joy, was a generally quiet older lady. She often came up with interesting ideas which had been forged in doing things on a shoestring as often happens when you’re involved in church activities like she had been.

She spoke up with an idea that intrigued me. As I pondered her suggestions a male voice Don, came from my right. He was the local council’s representative. He’d not been particularly engaged with the committee. He made clear his presence had a lot to do with the mandate of the committee coming from council and required a member on the committee. His words that day echoed what Joy had just said with zero acknowledgement to her.

I turned and looked at him, thought for a moment and then asked him, “did you just dream that idea up Don?”

A smirk crossed his face as he replied, “well, yeah, I just said it, so I had to think it.”

“Really?” came my reply, “how would you like to explain how I just heard the exact same idea come out of Joy’s mouth just a few minutes ago?” Don took on a rather unsettled look as he mumbled, “well, that was a woman’s voice.”

I glanced at Joy, she was smiling. I suspect she was enjoying not being ignored. As for Don, he was at least being honest. I’d lost track over the years of the number of times I’d sat in meetings, heard a women express an idea, a man repeat it and get credit for the idea while the woman was ignored.

That memory came to mind when I came across this poem earlier this month:

She sat at the back and they said she was shy
She led from the front and they hated her pride
They asked her advice and then questioned her guidance
They branded her loud then were shocked by her silence
When she shared no ambition, they said it was sad
So she told them her dreams and they said she was mad
They told her they’d listen then covered their ears
And gave her a hug whilst they laughed at her fears
And she listened to all of it thinking she should
Be the girl they told her to be best as she could
But one day she asked what was best for herself
Instead of trying to please everyone else
So she walked to the forest and stood with the trees
She heard the wind whisper and dance with the leaves
And she spoke to the willow, the elm and the pine
And she told them what she’d been told time after time
She told them she felt she was never enough
She was either too little or far, far too much
Too loud or too quiet, too fierce or too weak
Too wise or too foolish, too bold or too meek
Then she found a small clearing surrounded by firs
And she stopped and she heard what the trees said to her
And she sat there for hours not wanting to leave
For the forest said nothing, it just let her breathe
_{From: Talking to the Wild by Becky Hemsley}

Once again, I’ve come across a poem that managed to catch my attention. This is rare for me. This poem I tucked away into my note system so I could sit with it for a while. Like today.

It wasn’t just the one memory the words evoked but countless ones in my lifetime. The words spoke to too many of my lived experiences. Too many of the lived experiences of so many of my soul sisters as they navigate through their lives.

The experiences didn’t come just from how men respond to women, it includes how women respond to women. All too often women are so busy trying to navigate and survive in the world, they miss how they contribute to the experiences.

The poem also speaks of something else. Less directly but oh so present. When she goes into nature and pours out her heart, she’s pouring out to all the power that can’t be seen. We know that power by different names.

I’ll use God, but don’t be mistaken. I don’t use God as religion. Religion is all the power that can be seen. God is all the power that can’t be seen. When she brought it all to God, she was able to rest in the knowledge that she was seen and heard for who she was, not for what others expected of her.

She could trust in all the power that can’t be seen, when she couldn’t trust in people.

Shadowspub writes on a variety of subjects as she pursues her passion for learning. She also writes on other platforms and enjoys creating books you use like journals, notebooks, coloring books etc.

NOTE: unless otherwise stated, all images are the author’s.

Some of the image work may have been done in Midjourney for which I hold a licence to use the imges commercially.

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