I started writing my memoir because of a whisper. It's probably why I loved this question when it popped in the other day. What do you do with a whisper?
When I started writing my memoir, I had no idea how to write narrative. I knew doing this probably wouldn't matter one bit in the eyes of folks at work (which was terrifying). And I only wanted to write the parts of my story that I knew ahead of time would help others. I wanted nothing to do with my story outside of writing the parts that would make an impact. (So why write a memoir? I didn't know!)
What do you with your whispers?
Especially those edgy, creative, unformed, whispers-of-an-idea that you're not even sure you'd love to grow, but do make you curious. Again and again. The ones that you have no idea where to begin, how to follow them, or where they'll lead you. The ones you don't even know if they matter in the big scheme of things. The ones you doubt you'll be good at, but still they whisper.
Do you bury them under the busy-ness of your day and hope they'll go away?
Or tell them to come back once things are better and you're feeling good enough to deal with them?
Do you talk yourself out of them with all those rational reasons and not enoughs (time, what to do, how to do it, what if no one cares)?
Or sit around waiting until you're clear and know how these whispers will work out to decide whether to dance with them or let them drift away?
Or maybe you find yourself something else really good to do, something easier, less scary, more official, more impactful, that others obviously care about or need. But not nearly as fulfilling or alive, not nearly as independent and free...at least then that whisper isn't quite so pesky when it does come around.
There are so many things we can do with those whispers.
So many things.
And, of course, the easiest thing to do is nothing. Because they're just whispers. They're almost impossible to hear or do something about in a world where productivity reigns. Nothing on my to-do list is quite as quiet or subtle as the longing behind my whispers. Nothing I'm trying to do to make a difference in the world seems as important as the ways I can help others. But then again, nothing fills me up in the same way and says I love you girl as dancing with my whispers does. Nothing. Even though everything else clamors that it matters more.
So here's the beauty of how our whispers work. They're like you and me, you see. All they want, those whispers of desire, is for someone to love them, make space for them, to protect and look out for them, play with them, let them see the light of day, and bring them to life. They want connection. A relationship. A really alive one that feels more like a dance than a grind.
What if these whispers were our best dance partners in life? Even better than loved ones or work?
The trick with whispers, though, is this. They don't last forever. Eventually they give up. Or flit off to find someone else who is ready to dance. Or get harder and harder to hear because we're not listening to them. Or make us more and more uncomfortable and unfulfilled in our life until we do listen to them.
The minute we listen, those whispers get easier and easier to hear, dance with, follow, let guide our lives. Which means life feels more full, expansive, and unbelievable. More light. More alive.
So what would you love to do with your whispers this Valentine's Day? Would you like to try dancing with them? Seeing where they lead you that you never would have expected? Letting them guide you to exactly what will fill you up most in life?
Don't worry. Your whispers will show you the way. Like any good dance, you don't have to know the steps ahead of time. You'll find them as you go along. Taking one step. Then the second. Then the third. With beautiful music and a wonderful partner in hand.
Sound scary but fun? We'd love to have you join us as we bring our whispers into the world together.