How do I know what I think til I see what I say? Write/say… anything, take a chance, go high and wide and deep. Let us see what you really think by seeing what you say when you are in free fall, rather than on walking along on relatively safe ground only.
-Clarissa Pinkola Estés
Recently, in a writing circle I was attending, a colleague’s opening line – “I love you and I hate you” – shook through me like a thunderbolt, a movement of fear and guilt.
At the same time, it gave me a sense of permission to admit that I, too, feel that way about people I love, feelings that linger and press on my heart, thoughts I haven’t acknowledged or processed.
I have things to say about love and hate. Words I keep hidden in my body and often don’t even know about, though they sit brewing, stored in the censor’s coffers.
Sorting through words, I come out from under a pile of haze, Linus’ blanket leaving black plumes of dust through the air.
Where else does the censor linger?
What secrets do my body and psyche need to tell, even if only to myself?
Where would you begin?