Showing posts with label Voice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Voice. Show all posts

Thursday, January 1, 2015

The Twelve Days of Christmas, Seven Swans a Swimming

 
On the seventh day of Christmas
my true love sent to me:
Seven Swans a Swimming
Six Geese a Laying
Five Golden Rings
Four Calling Birds
Three French Hens
Two Turtle Doves
and a Partridge in a Pear Tree

I'm continuing my series on The Twelve Days of Christmas. As I shared previously, Brian McLaren pushed me to ponder how I might put the Twelve Days of Christmas into action. On the seventh day after Christmas, I'm finding my voice like Louis, in The Trumpet of the Swan.
A classic, The Trumpet of the Swan, by E.B. White, follows Louis (Loo-ee), a Trumpeter Swan, as he seeks his voice. Louis must find the courage to overcome his disability: he was born without a voice. He does overcome, and along the way, he learns perseverance, finds friendship, works hard, lives courageously, and gains true love.

A compelling story, we also must find our unique voices and overcome challenging circumstances. With Louis, we ponder love in a complex world, and we ask, "Who are my friends and whom might I help?"

We all deserve a voice, but some of us like Louis, are born without one. We greet the world in our own way, and yet must learn how to acquire our voice. We don't, as Louis did, pull on a shoe lace in order to say hello, but we do, by sheer grace and determination, pull up our bootstraps and make our way into the world. We get out of the nest, toddling as best we can.
Photo by Nicholas Lisi
Seven Swans a Swimming was difficult to write because finding my voice is an ever present journey. Writing, day in and day out, carves out space for craftsmanship, and while it requires discipline, it is gratifying, and mentally and emotionally freeing. But writing is not necessarily living. Like Louis, I must find my wings and fly in order to find my voice. We all must.
Further, in an extroverted world, so many pipe up loudly and often. Like Father Cob, they are loud and insistent with their words. We all know them. They take the world by force. For better or worse, they leave their mark on the world and us. To often, these people shape me. Their insistence is met by my resistance. Yet that resistance, that pulling back, is costly. Certainly for a writer, raw emotion often equals excellence, but so often I'd rather be in control of my words, rather than let streams of them run where they may. All the while, I resent those who do let their words run all over. While, it's tempting to believe the world's extroverts control the world's introverts, the many words vs. the few words, I've no excuse for not crafting my own life. My soul needs me to find my voice. Robert Lewis Stevenson said, "To know what you prefer instead of humbly saying Amen to what the world tells you you ought to prefer, is to have kept your soul alive." Yes. I must find and craft my own voice. I must craft my own life. 

And Sam Beaver asks what we all want to know, “How does a bird know how to get from where he is to where he wants to be? This too, is our question.

In spite of the many voices, whispering in our ears, we must seek our own voices and craft our creative selves. In this, the proper thing to do is to sit still, and birth what's growing under the current of our lives. 

Swans must be cheerful not sad, graceful not awkward, and brave not cowardly.

And Louis shows us the way. Louis lives his life, and he learns to sacrifice for himself and others. Ever observant, Louis saves Applegate Skinner from drowning. Even when misunderstood, Louis makes the lives of others richer and better for his presence. He keeps Serena, whom he loves and is far away, close to his heart. But in all that he does for love, with time, Louis acquires more and more around his neck. While good, these things weigh him down. Still, he presses towards his goal: Serena's love. And for the sake of his voice and music, Louis has Sam Beaver cut one of his webbed feet, elevating his trumpeting skills, even as it costs him some of his swimming abilities. Such is life, to gain in one area, we relinquish in another.

I will leave you to read the remainder of The Trumpet of the Swan on your own, but let us live with Louis' story and ask, "Who are the children around us who struggle to find their voice?" How can we help them? What about older adults, so often marginalized in our culture? How can we encourage them to use their voices? Where do we need to listen and with whom?
We also, like Father Cob, must come to grips with having people in our lives who do not live up to our first hopes or expectations. Can we adjust? We must. The loudest must adjust to the quietest, and the gregarious adjust to the still.

And like Louis towards his father, we must adjust to the actions of others and their effects upon our lives. Father Cob's poor choice of robbing the music store, burdened Louis with a huge debt, but in the end it was also what gave Louis both adventure and his voice. As Louis embraces the challenges his relationships create, he overcomes them and uses the disabilities to his advantage. Disabilities and difficult circumstances make some of us stronger, better, and more courageous. I want like Louis, to live with courage, and to rise, finding my way into the high stormy winds of life with strength in my wings.

We also remember that while some are not so awesome at observation, they make up for it in their own way with the skill of action. Father Cob's advice is timeless:

The takeoff must be into the wind. Don't look down. Look straight ahead, and don't lose your nerve.

The Trumpet of the Swan is my favorite E.B. White book. We read it a few years ago, discussing autism. It was a gift then, just as listening again is a gift. It reminds me that the journey to find my voice is worthy, and that in doing so, I can also help others find their voice.

This seventh day of Christmas may you be graced with both ideas and activity. Give the gift of voice to a child through the gift of story. Teach a child to read. Share an important story with someone you love. Listen to someone's story. Teach someone how to tell their story, by living your own. Nurture a soul.
Photo source unknown.
The world is full of talkers, but it is rare to find anyone who listens. 

*P.S. Listen to this on audio to enjoy Louis on his trumpet.