Project Reverb prompt: “Letting go: For next year, I’m letting go of…”
I try to respond to the Reverb prompts myself before reading what anyone else said because I want my response to be fresh, unique, original, authentic, even if it ends up magically similar to someone else’s answer. I messed up this time. Someone posted a comment to today’s prompt on the Project Reverb website and said they were letting go of “that which no longer serves me.” That phrase is a mantra of sorts for me, the perfect way to describe why I’ve been shedding old habits, thought patterns, and ways of being. Now that I’ve heard it, I can’t answer this any other way.
For next year, I’m letting go of that which no longer serves me. Everything that is too small, too tight, all that is restricting me, pinching me and making me uncomfortable. I’m letting go of what I’m not using. I’m letting go of what I’m afraid to give up, get rid of, surrender. I’m letting go of poverty mentality. I’m letting go of pushing, shoving, forcing, smashing myself to bits. I’m letting go of thinking I can do everything, do it fast and without the necessary rest and nourishment. I’m letting go of needing to be liked, of thinking it’s an issue of survival. I’m letting go of fitting in. I’m letting go of pretending. I’m letting go of “supposed to” and “have to.” I’m letting go of being afraid of suffering, which is really a fear of dying, of impermanence — (well, that one might take some work, a little more time).
Reverb14 prompt: “What is the sound of your own voice?”
Sometimes soft, sometimes fierce. Sometimes it’s too loud and people tell me to keep it down, to be quiet, to shut up. Sometimes it’s not even words. It comes from so deep inside of me that when I hear it echoed back to me from a recording, I don’t recognize it. From far away it can sound a little like a flock of birds or a swarm of bees or a single wolf howling. Sometimes I speak in a language I made up that no one else understands. Sometimes my voice sounds like a whistle that only dogs can hear. Sometimes it’s hard to tell if I’m singing or talking or crying. When it says “I’m sorry” it sounds like sticks breaking. When it says “I love you” it sounds like ocean waves. The sound of my breath, my heartbeat is the same.