"Oh for those who never sing, but die with all their music in them!" ~ Oliver Wendell Holmes
Six years ago I came across a line from an old poem that pierced my present moment so deeply that it seemed to stop time.
On an average Tuesday, I would sit at my desk and ignore the pile of papers I was responsible for entering into a spreadsheet and instead hesitate as usual on the Internet.
At that particular time, Pinterest was my drug of choice – anyone else?
As I was flipping aimlessly through crazy theme party ideas and spicy margarita recipes, this old poet Oliver Wendell Holmes suddenly came up with these words that jumped off my laptop screen and stung me like fourteen different bee stings Heart:
"Oh for those who never sing, but die with all their music in them!"
I was down to earth. It was as if Oliver's invisible hand had reached into my day and burst the protective bubble of my well-established comfort zone, falling to the bottom of an uncertain reality that I had so skillfully hovered over for years.
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When I landed in the truth of my life for the first time in a long time, I saw the following:
A young college graduate whose father died in the first few weeks of "adulthood" and who accepted a job in the marketing department of a reputable company because it "looked good" and who spent her time dealing with impending fears Escape from the growth ups and downs by taking refuge in stranger's purchases, greasy pizza slices, late nights under laser lights, and the bottoms of wine bottles.
A deaf, fake zombie in red lipstick who had forgotten her own song.
As a little girl, music oozed effortlessly from my pores. I could laugh, cry, dream, question, create and believe in magic, and other people and myself with such devotion; It was like I was a tiny conductor leading a spontaneous orchestra with full self-expression, always untried and totally freestyle.
And I didn't just speak, I sang! And I didn't just run, I danced!
Didn't I put soundproof walls around my being back then? I could remember what it was like to feel so free. But the memory of my smaller, wilder self marching proudly to the beat of its own drum felt so far removed from where and how I lived.
Instead of continuing with the endless table I was responsible for completing that afternoon, I decided to take a break. A long pause. I found a sunny bench outside my building to sit on and think.
Then suddenly the little mermaid swam straight into my stream of thoughts. I closed my eyes and saw the scene in which Ariel exchanged her powerful voice for a pair of legs for the evil sea witch Ursula. She is so sure that becoming part of the human world is more important to her than telling her own truth and singing her own song. And I asked myself …
To what extent do I live at the expense of my own inner music?
I began to investigate the situations in my life in which, out of fear, I exchanged an authentic piece of myself in order to achieve a certain result in the world. Here are just a few places in my life where I've found this to be:
I had sacrificed my passion by taking a job that I only tolerated because I was afraid of failure and wanted to appear successful.
I had put my grief down and numbed it with shopping, food, and alcohol because I was afraid I would break down and wanted to make it seem like I was okay.
I had sacrificed an authentic connection for toxic friendships because I was afraid of being lonely while making the right friends and appearing to be liked.
I had sacrificed my authenticity and lived a small life because I was afraid of vulnerability and wanted to appear to be in control.
It was then that I decided to get rid of my legs – anything that had to do with appearance – and dive deep into my own true passion, sadness and longing for connection and authenticity.
I quit my job and enrolled in a certification and ordination program for spiritual studies.
I hired a therapist to help me heal and a trainer to help me dream. These two women would become the toughest lawyers for me and my inner music that I would ever meet.
I started taking personal development classes, joined a business mastermind, and took as many meditation circles and yoga classes as I could.
I started playing around with my facial expressions again, buckling my favorite childhood songs, wearing colors that made me feel alive, scribbling lines of poetry until I fell in love again with the language of my own heart, and my fingers immersing rainbows of color with no plan.
It felt so good to seek for the sake of seeking and to create for the sake of creating!
I finally began to let some of the people I loved and trusted enough to really see, hear, and hold me.
And I became present, like really, really present, slowing down long enough to fully inhabit every moment I was in. From that place it became so natural to use the very real magic that always existed in and around me.
I recognized the wonders of my two feet on the ground, the blessing of my breath and the rhythm of my heartbeat. I noticed the sound and feel of my whole body – NO and YES. This new level of consciousness polished my perceptual lens and enabled me to see my life through my child's eyes again – from a place of curiosity, excitement, imagination and hope!
My dive took me to terrible places where I kept trying to sell myself to the sea witch, but I still swim on.
Because my song cannot be silenced, and neither can yours, although both of us will live for months, if not years, in fear of what it takes to really sing.
There is so much music in you and me. And to be the ultimate expression of who we are, we have to sing our songs and sing them out loud! But to live like this we have to give ourselves permission to feel, say, and do what is true.
Maybe it doesn't look like quitting a job for good or grieving for the loss of a loved one when you have your truth. But I urge you to really take some time to stop and search your life without judgment, just with your eyes wide open and a loving heart, and to ask yourself:
What do I wish for? What fear arises in the face of my desire? Where do I sell myself out to flee / hide from my fear? And what do I have to do in order to express the full potential and the possibility of fulfilling my wish?
Do you remember the violent and fearless urge to learn and grow as a child? Can you imagine the number of times you have tried to master the skills you needed to really deal with life? Walking, reading, writing, asking by saying what do you want, feeding yourself, tying your shoes, wiping your own bum, etc.? Where is this invincible tenacity going?
The answer is: YOU STILL RECEIVED IT!
It was and always will be in you. You and I have the ability to be successful in all areas of our lives. How? By getting brave enough to stop and listen to our own music then really let it guide us as we go!
Belt your song like your life and the lives of future generations depend on it because they do. And if you miss a beat or sing a note or two out of tune, don't be afraid to own it. It's all just part of the dance.
If you are looking for me, I will be here, dive deep into the depths of my being, listen to my own music, swim through fear and dare to sing. Over and over and over again until my very last breath.
And you? I hope that you have the courage and willingness to go deep and unleash the divine music for which only you were born.
About Devon Dennis
Devon is a soul trainer and celebrant guiding seekers to discover the magic and medicine that they uniquely created to be shared. She is also a writer and speaker who inspires audiences to live more courageously and shine brighter through the transformative powers of poetry and storytelling. To connect with Devon, you can visit www.devondennis.com or follow her on Instagram @itsdevondennis.
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