You Don’t Speak Out Enough


Use what talent you possess: the woods would be very silent if no birds sang there except those that sang best.
— Henry Van Dyke

Protest, speak up, be heard!

Please have your say!

You have a voice, after all – that can take many shapes. A language that is listened to. A presence that is felt. Words that can be read, thoughts turned into actions, a body that can move.

And yet, you don’t speak out enough. (Even when you!)

You fear saying something that displeases. You concern over being misunderstood. You do not speak the unspeakable.

You let the sacrilegious go unnoticed – the emperor, naked in his new clothes.

You’re frightened of being seen, and heard and riduculed or ignored.

You fear being a fool; you fear being the genius.

You don’t speak up enough.

About the way things could be. About disinformaton, and dis-ease, and all the unnecessary distress.

You let others speak for you. Their words not yours. And their version of the wisdom, and the love and the light. You keep your waters from the vastness of the ocean for fear you might pollute.

You hide your light and you hide your dark – you hide it all.

You don’t speak up enough.

You don’t let people laugh at you, so you don’t let people laugh with you. You don’t ever play the fool in case the role might stick.

You don’t get to be wrong. You want to learn safely. You want to stay out of the way.

When the way needs you to be you. It needs to hear from you. It needs to notice and see and feel you. To laugh at you, and learn from you. All from you being you.

You don’t speak up enough. You don’t dance your dance. And you don’t sing your song.

Remember: “A bird doesn’t sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song.” This is the voice of Maya Angelou. Who knew why the caged bird sung. A woman discouraged, and ravaged, by others. And yet a woman who inspired you despite it all.

Remember Maya Angelou. Remember George Eliot. Remember Sylvia Plath. Remember all those voices of women, that one way or another fear tried to stifle or control or diminish.

Remember you. You come with a voice. And it needs to be heard.

Remember David Attenborough. “What is happening when a bird sings its song, anyway?”

Birdsong. Is it about mating, and dating? Is it about keeping territory safe? Or is it simply an act of being heard of being seen of being alive?

If you were a bird you’d know. But you’re not a bird, you’re a being, a human being. And, respectfully, you have so many more ways to sing your unique song.

Yet you don’t speak out enough.

Or maybe you speak out too much. On auto pilot. In defence mode. Ranting and raving. Just being too noisy. Not caring about offending, not caring about dominating, and not caring about anything but your right to say what you want to say.

Maybe you speak out too much. And you don’t listen enough. Maybe you forget to listen to that silent part of you.

Maybe you’re overcompensating.

Maybe you doth protest too much.

Maybe your strength is now a weakness.

Maybe you speaking out means others do not. Maybe you DO know it all, after all. Maybe your voice IS the only voice that needs to be heard.

Maybe, maybe, maybe. Who can say. The dance between expressing yourself loudly, whispering quietly, and staying silent is just like any other dance: no dance is ever the same.

So there are no rules to this that always work.

Sometimes your silence is wasted, and sometimes it is not. Sometimes we want your fury, your wisdom, and your complete and utter ignorance. And sometimes you whistle in the wind when it is the wind that wants to be heard.

You need to speak out more; sing your song; and be with your silence. And you need to learn how to dance…

Courage is what it takes to stand up and speak; courage is also what it takes to sit down and listen.
— Winston Churchill


Agree with what I’ve shared here? Disagree? Still got questions? Then please leave a comment. 🙂