Is That Okay?

Ohhh vooooiiice — where are you?

I waited for it at dawn, and again at midday — this elusive, nebulous idea that the self will declare itself, seat itself on the throne of our lives.

I want to find my voice. I don’t have a voice. I feel voiceless, the muted ones say.
I need to throttle back my voice. It’s too overpowering, others mutter.

To be is to be one’s voice. To be scattered, unwell, spiraling 360 degrees in the bellows of a porcelain throne — that is a voice, too.

My voice, my self, my way, today, is quiet. Barely a whisper. When someone asks, “What was that?” the answer is, “Nothing.”

I prefer the knowing voice — the wise elder whittling lessons from wood. I prefer his direction, his steady, “Full speed ahead.”

I wait for him to appear.

And when it’s simply a being day — armfuls of wet leaves against my chest, sandhill cranes cackling overhead — I remember this is a voice, too.

I want it all to be okay.

“Is that okay?” is a phrase I use often in counseling sessions. When someone is angry, feels insane, wants to bury their ostrich head deep into a prairie dog’s mound — is that okay?

I trust that all the voices that are me will show themselves in time.

I keep the fire stoked, the refrigerator full, the comfiest chair open and ready. The conditions may not be right for one or another. They need space. And I give it.

I won’t wrestle or wrangle anyone into the chair. I invite. I may even hope. But if they don’t come, I know —

that too is okay. Love, Jaclynn