|Posted by Nathalie Brewer on June 11, 2012 at 10:35 AM|
A healthy female speaker is much like a wild animal. She is aware and alert, absorbed and in contact with her primal senses. She can detect threat and rise into her innate sense of right and wrong. Willing to stand up for what she believes, she moves from a place of all seeing. Infused in her natural authority, she wills without command and exposes without disclosure.
She draws into the issue and enlivens her sense of what is real and unreal, sifting through the distorted and reaching for the meaningful. It is in the white heat of feeling is where she plucks her topic. Once her topic is plucked, she keeps penetrating until she strikes upon the hot spots where meaning clashes with reason and where creation is held back through tension. She knows with animal sense that it is in the shadow side where the true subject resides. She hunts the inside of subject and doesn’t stop until she draws out the weak points where truth is untold. Waiting in the shadow side of the mundane, the untold lays dormant, still and unwavering until she approaches.
She knows she has found the untold when she hears a crackling, snapping sound, as she steps the untrodden path through a forest. She seeks the undercarriage, the forked roads and the flip side where reason forgets itself and surrenders a single truth. These truths she collects like wild daisies which leap forward as if dancing in the delight of being seen. She plucks enough of them to fill her basket and then retreats to her quite den, lays them out and listens for which ones have the most longing to be told. She selects the ones with the strongest scent, for these are the ones who have been waiting the longest.
She crafts her talk based upon this scent, moving between the still points in truth. The feminine speaker has learnt to release this scent in almost every phrase. Her talk becomes like a pheromone being slowly released into the psyche of her audience. She fearlessly moves through her talk using the longing in small truths as stepping stones. Together, she and audience breathe from the same pool of air. With one breath, one movement, and a myriad of strides, she leads them, carefully and protectively through the terrain of their unstruck thoughts. The rhythm created in the space of her talk is the sound of one heart beat. Almost unaware of the process, the audience is birthed into a new depth over and over again.
She does not conclude, but rather castes off like a spider dismantling its silken web in the morning sun. She moves from her centre, where she has been perched with the patience of holding her listeners. Her limbs remain in touch with the vibration of each strand, each person. Her last words linger between finality and nostalgia. Through knowing her we have come to know something much deeper than her words. We have been moved, almost unnoticeably, toward the blue flame of our instinctual self.