It has been 24 hours since I returned from She Speaks where close to 1000 women gathered together with a shared belief in the power of words. Words. Transforming, powerful, life-giving words. Personal truths spoken aloud. Penned on a page. Typed and sent off into cyberspace. We believe in the power of words to redeem the ugly parts of us and our worlds. We believe in the healing power in just saying something aloud. Through the spoken word, lies lose their power — truths rise out of dark corners of our souls. It was an honor to be surrounded by women who, like me, desire to use words to make our own corner of hope and connection amid a world that can be harsh and isolating.
I find it rather ironic that I have been at a complete loss for words since I walked through the doors of the conference Friday morning. I planned to write a blog post each night I was there. As you see, Thursday was no problem. Apparently, my inability to form complete sentences didn’t begin until I sat face to face with this crazy dream of mine. I wrote a post Friday but it just wasn’t right. It wasn’t…me. I tried again Saturday. I reworked Friday’s words and once again…I couldn’t do it. The words I did type on the page felt out of place and forced. I don’t want to publish forced. When it’s forced I am trying to be someone I am not. If there is anything I walked away with from this weekend, surrounded by amazing women with talent beyond my wildest imagination, is that I need to find my voice. Mine.
So far, my voice has been pretty silent. Rather than pretend, I figured I’d come here and write that, well… I have nothing to say…yet. I am marinading in my weekend and all the thoughts and feelings it stirred. I think I am okay with that. Sort of. For now anyways.
I feel change on the horizon. Stretching. I can’t explain it. My plane took me right back to where I started, but there is a part of me that feels foreign and unsure here. There’s a tentative expectation of something I know I am supposed to be and do, but it’s fuzzy and keeps slipping through my fingers. For tonight I will surrender to being at a loss. I won’t try to sound clever or funny or whimsical – I will just admit that I feel a little lost. And, I will float along in that uncertainty trusting that something – Someone – bigger than me is pulling me forward.