MC's Whispers

Whispering Silences

Archive for the tag “expression”

Externalising the battles

The problem with keeping everything in your head and fighting your battles alone is that the stress and pressure you’re burdening yourself with will very often lead to unnecessary – and inexplicable to others – flippant remarks that cause further tension to your social relations.

What isn’t expressed, eats you up.

Our problems are usually smaller than we overthink them to be.

But if we don’t share them, we won’t easily find a solution for them.

Also part of Weekend Writing Prompt #266s

The red lines we cross

https://st2.depositphotos.com/1000553/6702/v/950/depositphotos_67029465-stock-illustration-bright-red-lines-background.jpg

We all have them. But it’s only when we cross them that we perceive their significance.

Red lines are like raising the alarm; that something is wrong.

We all seemingly know at what point something becomes unacceptable to us. But you never really believe you’ll reach that point, or surpass your limits in an often dangerous manner.

We dream of life to be perfect, with as few problems as possible, with disagreements being restricted to a minimum with our colleagues, partner, friends, or even strangers. Hoping whatever row we have may be trivial five minutes later, when we eventually cross those red lines of ours and tensions rise and voice levels increase, we are stunned ourselves. Because this point of no return was never our intention. And it usually becomes so obvious in how it leaves you drained, emotionally exhausted, and psychologically unable to think straight.

We exceed our limits when we accumulate emotions and thoughts for too long without expressing them; when we’re fighting a battle on our own and trying to conceal it from everyone else; when we’re pressing ourselves too hard to appear that everything is fine when it’s really not; when we want someone to stand by but are too proud to ask.

When our mind is too clouded to be able to think clearly, we can only see problems rather than solutions to them. That is when we need a support circle the most. To help us restore reason in that chaos-creating head of ours. It’s not easy. Nothing of value ever is. It would be too boring otherwise. We sometimes need to transcend our own limits – and our comfort zone – to awaken to everything else that can happen if we rattle ourselves up a bit.

For the record and as an interesting fact: The origin of the phrase ‘red line’ in English traces back to the “Red Line Agreement” in 1928 between largest oil companies of Britain, the USA and France at the time of the end of the Ottoman Empire. At the time of signature, the borders of the former empire were not clear, and to remedy the problem an Armenian businessman named Calouste Gulbenkian, took a red pencil to draw in an arbitrary manner the borders of the divided empire. The expression remained significant to global diplomacy and was reused during the UN’s founding after the WWII, especially in the English-speaking world.

Communicate it

In all we want to say but never do, in the things we say but don’t even mean, in the words lost for the emotions we don’t express, there is so much communication that fades between us.

Not everyone has the same way of externalising what they feel, think or even want to say.

But surely there must be a way of sending your message out to others.

Be it by humour – no matter how cold or inappropriate; body language, drawings, lyrics, or any other way, being able to express yourself is an integral necessity of our human nature, and ultimately our survival.

Because if we cannot even understand each other, how can we help each other become the better versions we are capable of?

Support in actions

If you observe the signs around you, you’ll see a lot more than what you’re asking for in a verbal communication. That is, there are some things words cannot express.

Not everyone can – or will – communicate in the way you expect or want them to. Each person has their own way of demonstrating affection. You just have to be open enough to see it.

Sometimes, showing that you care is simply by keeping the house warm for your partner, cooking dinner when their too busy, or simply calling to check in.

There are many ways to be there, even if you’re not physically present.

And at the end of the long, hard days we often have, all we really need is to feel loved and thought of.

Writing down the truths we cannot say

https://www.hawkwoodcollege.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2019/01/Writing-Nature-Copy-2-800x600.jpeg

It is often urged as a step to healing to write down your emotions, your thoughts, everything you keep inside. It is believed that putting the thoughts inside your head on paper is actually a therapeutic form of tension release. The toxins that you keep locked inside will flow via ink on paper and relieve you from the stress.

But it is also a way of getting to terms with a truth you keep concealed even from yourself.

There are so many things going on inside our minds that we tell no one. Sometimes we don’t even admit them to ourselves.

And often that is what hurts us the most. Failure to acknowledge facts keeps our emotions perplexed and maintains our mood in a complex state.

In short, we cannot fix what we do not accept.

So we are urged to write.

We write down made-up stories to tell the truths we wish we could say out loud.

And in these, we hope to find some consolation, some relief, some healing.

Why dance?

©MCD

So, why do you dance?

He had been asked many interview questions since his career gained an upward path, but this was by far the most intimate one. It reached right into his soul, past his life experiences, his childhood dreams and wishes, his ambitions and desires. It was the essence of who he was.

There are so many reasons why,” he began. The emotional charge was already apparent in his eyes and in the tone of his voice that suddenly became softer and quieter.

I dance because it makes me feel alive. Feeling my body in motion, makes me feel like I’m doing something right, that I’m allowed to experiment in every dimension with every part of my being. All a dancer needs to do is close his eyes and feel the music”.

I dance because I’m happy, or I’m sad, or I’m angry…I feel through dance. It’s my way of expression. But it is also of healing. I always feel better after I dance”.

I feel graceful and free when I dance,” he continued. “I feel my aura becoming lighter and brighter and this also helps me culturally and socially connect with others. I feel I am becoming a better person when I dance. And I like that version of me”.

Dancing is also a way to escape everything that is troubling your mind at the moment. It’s great therapy for the mind and it certainly keeps you active and fit. It is a fun way to exercise and offers many more benefits that are first apparent. All you need to do is try it for yourself and you’ll be convinced”.

The interviewer stared straight into his eyes. She had never received such an honest and long response before.

And, of course, she was now eager for her first dance lesson.  

Dance away

https://artsedge.kennedy-center.org/educators/lessons/grade-3-4/Telling_a_Story_Dance

The first time he stepped into a dance studio, he felt his heart flutter, as if it left his body and was hovering above him. He felt almost embarrassed walking in with all those potential dancers staring at him as the door clinked on his entry.

But he was determined.

Strong emotions can do that to a person.

Just a week ago, he had been dragged to a dance soirée by his sister and her friends. He had fallen in love with a dancer. But it was not with a specific one. He had been blown away by the movement; the story that was told through the song and dance. The feelings that were conveyed; the expressions on the dancers’ faces. He could feel everything so deeply just by looking at them. Being a part of their troupe must be amazing. That was the thought that had captured his mind that night. Being able to communicate in such way must be a great relief. Dancing would be an excellent way to relieve the pressure of everyday life.

So, here he was, trying to learn how to do that too.

The motto on the studio’s wall was “every problem has a solution, so dance!

The corner of notes

music-room

©Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

It was a corner in the house that belonged to him alone. One in which all worries and concerns would evaporate, converted into notes and music. It was a corner that hosted all of his instruments, his closest friends, those that accompanied him since he was a child. It was to them that he would seek refuge, where he would turn when something went wrong, but also when he wanted to celebrate. They knew best how to express it all: every emotion, every heartbeat.

This was the corner where life gained a meaning. Where he would feel, above all, understood.

 

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

A raging bull with a lamb’s heart

https://www.google.gr/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=imgres&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=2ahUKEwjqlJzzqtPZAhVMKuwKHZyrA2YQjRx6BAgAEAY&url=https%3A%2F%2Ftoonclips.com%2Fdesign%2F10925&psig=AOvVaw1unLJm8h1WnBu1XCQwzaXn&ust=1520275790003619He entered the room like a raging bull, which was easy to do because he had the appearance of a bull. When he got angry though, he huffed and puffed and stomped his feet. You wouldn’t want to be anywhere near him. He was fearsome at sight.

But like many things, appearances deceive.

He had the ability to make a room messy in no time. To throw things around and even break a few objects as he passed. It was not his fault he was vast and space-consuming. Deep inside though he had the heart of a lamb. He was easily hurt, which was mostly caused because he trusted people too much. He mistakenly believed that others would do for him what he would do for them. He couldn’t understand that not everyone had the kind heart he had or even cared as much. When he felt broken or worse, enraged, he would turn into something not even he himself could recognise. And it took thrice as long for him to calm down afterwards.

He hated how messy he could become and how out-of-self. But he took a little pleasure in the fact that, according to various researches published at times, messy people are thought to be more intelligent than the average person. He believed it reflected the messiness of his brain – how so many things were clamped into such a small space. He acknowledged the literal bull character wasn’t good for anyone, but all he needed was some comforting words and the acknowledgement that he was not alone. Like every creature in this world, his heart too would soften when it received some tender, love and care. Maybe that too would somewhat organise his messy mind.

 

Also part of Daily Prompt: Messy

Teaching how to disassemble the chaos

http://www.newyorker.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/O-Neill-X-Games-on-Ice-1200.jpgShe screamed something incomprehensible, slammed her hands on the table, sturdily got up and left the room. If there were a door, she would have slammed it in anger.

He remained staring at the empty seat. Motionless. Unreactive. He had become accustomed to such bursts of anxiety, as he called them. He knew that she would soon blow off steam and come to realise that he was right all along. But that was something she should do on her own. She needed the space to calm down and process it all. He knew she could do more. She just had to believe it too.

She soon returned embarrassed but full of thirst for more. He had succeeded in awakening her desire to improve. To reach the potential he had seen in her from the very first day.

She loved ice-skating. It was the perfect combination of dance, expression and imagination. And on the ice, she felt more liberated than ever. It brought some tranquility to her otherwise chaotic life. Because no matter what went on at home, during her busy schedule, or in the world in general, on that ice rink she forgot it all, and got lost in the music, allowing it to drift her away, into a parallel universe, a utopia.

She was a smart girl, craving knowledge, demonstrating a general interest in everything that surrounds us, and with a fantasy as large and open as her heart.  She generally respected her teachers, especially those who inspired her and taught her to love learning. Those who showed her where to look, but left her to see things for herself. The ones who taught her to be critical of everything she heard, and, no matter what, to always try and improve; to compete, not with others, but with herself.

But the one who she loved the most was her ice-skating teacher. He was the once who acted as a mentor, a guide, a psychotherapist, a friend, a family member. He was so much more than a teacher and that is why she could so freely unleash every emotion in front of him. Because she knew he would understand. And he would support her either way.

Like Albert Einstein had said, “it is the supreme art of the teacher to awaken joy in creative expression and knowledge”. Because it is a fact that the (right) teachers are the ones who create all other professions, the ones who inspire you to be the best you can be, and to find some order in the chaos that is our world.

 

Also part of Daily Prompt: Chaos

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