Yo Mama!

Recently I lost my voice. Like a tidal wave I felt it coming on. First with a little tickle in the throat, then came the deep raspy noise. I ignored it all and kept going and pushing. Soon it just stopped. Shut down completely.  For about two days not even a squeak came out. The timing was somewhat unfortunate as it coincided with my boyfriend's birthday. In jest he commented about it and said with a chuckle, 'Winifred, that's the perfect birthday present, you losing your voice!'. I was not at all amused. 

Maybe it was a touch of the flu but the truth of the matter is that I knew deep down that something important was going on inside. I have a long history of throat mischief that is linked to a massive movement of internal energy. I take stress right in the throat and have ever since I was a little girl. This is not my first 'losing my voice' rodeo.

Yoga is teaching me to trust my body and its signals.  Not honoring that ultimately means trouble, especially for me in matters of the throat. If I look closely and honestly, I can trace something out of balance between my head and my heart. And just below that I can feel a control issue burning away in my soul. I've actually researched 5th chakra issues and found that addiction is one of the primary illnesses that can  result of dysfunction in this area. Surprise, surprise. 

Modern mystic Caroline Myss writes that the 5th chakra is the willpower chakra. "The symbolic challenge of the willpower chakra is to progress through the maturation of will: from the tribal perception that everyone and everything around you has authority over you, through the perception that you alone have authority over you; to the final perception that true authority comes from aligning yourself to God's will".  This maturation of the will business is constantly on my life's radar, and when I'm really off base, my throat shuts down cold.

I'd just returned from my 30 year high school reunion in Dallas, Texas and it was about as tribal of an experience as I'll ever hope to have and about as much fun as I've ever had, period. Part of my throat might have just plumb tuckered out from talking and laughing so much for three solid days. Maybe all this is just a case of the flu after all.

But it was the quiet moments, away from the crowds and the parties that really moved me. Like throwing open the french doors in my hotel room and feeling the heavy May humidity and hearing the mockingbirds sing. Like walking down the halls of my high school and feeling into all the awkwardness as a teenager while being fully present in my adult body. Like driving around the old neighborhood and getting flooded with early memories. One evening, late after the festivities were over,  I drove by my old house on the corner of  Euclid and Abbott. I parked across the street from this magnificent and beautiful home and just stared into the property. The lights were casting the most familiar shadows on the front drive and the crickets were chirping in the Texas night air. I could almost feel my Mom and Dad on the other side of the door. I wanted to run to the front door and reach to hug both my parents. I wanted to wrap my arms around them both and say, Thank you! I know you did the very best you could, I really appreciate this sweet place you brought me up in.  I know you both loved me very much and  I love you back!' I wanted to say those words so bad. Like losing my voice, I can't. My Dad is deceased, and my mother, well, we've had some issues.

The fact that I even felt that way is a total miracle and miles away from how I've ever felt in Dallas, Texas, or anywhere else, for that matter. I think I'm beginning to integrate bits and pieces of myself that had totally blown apart and have a refreshed perspective on this thing called life. Those tribal 'things' that once haunted me so no longer have their powerful grip on me and life is beginning to take on the quality of feeling safe and secure while moving away from fear and anger. Like yoga, this is all practice.

May 10, the day I lost my voice was not only my boyfriend's birthday, but it was also Mother's Day. I literally could not speak. I was stuck in my holding pattern of knowing what I needed to do and say but on the other hand was terrified to do it. My heart wanted to say I love you Mom, and all is forgiven, my head was stuck in 'does this mean she WINS?'.

I surrender. I just can't do this battle any longer. I choose to be a daughter of Love. 

The next day I got a shot of antibiotics in my butt and the return of my voice in my throat. One of the first things I did was call my Mom. It was a short, fairly uneventful call, but I find one doesn't really have to speak a lot when the head and the heart are connected. It was a voice of Truth, and one that had taken the leap of faith that love conquers all.