Category: Inspiration

On Singing

May 17, 2021 / Meghan Victoria

I love to sing. There is a calling deep in my blood to make beauty with music. To heal with music. Which is somewhat tragic in that I have never considered myself a “good singer”. To be completely truthful, I used to tell people I was tone deaf. And though tone deafness is a defense used by many who feel they are not gifted with song, it’s actually a condition, defined as: a musical disability affecting about 4% of the population that appears mainly as a defect in processing pitch but also encompasses musical memory and recognition (Ref: Wikipedia).

There is a free online test to check your pitch perception. Spoiler alert: I am not tone deaf. Which I already knew, having grown up on a piano bench and achieving Level 7 Royal Conservatory. Each Royal Conservatory level tests your ability to play several pieces (bonus if you can do it from memory), as well as sight reading, playing by ear, and note recall. All of which you cannot do if you are tone deaf.

So why the self-deprecation?

From the time I was ten, I daydreamed about being the lead singer of a band. I still do. I was a member of my school choir and band through high school. And yet, I wouldn’t sing unless I was sure others would drown me out. I was ashamed of my voice, because it didn’t sound like everything I was taught singing should sound like.

Society has warped the gift of song into something commercial, something that must be done in a specific way to carry value. But music exists in all of us. It is a mode of communication. Songs connect us to each other, to the earth, to the world. There is a reason we sing in the car, the shower – even those of us who feel we aren’t singers. We sing when we are alone. When no one is nearby to make fun of us. Because making fun of people for their voice has become normalized. And even though we might not realize it on the surface, even though we might make fun of ourselves for the exact same thing, words bury deep. And through what might be perceived as playful banter, singing becomes an unattainable standard that most of us shouldn’t even attempt.

And you know what? I’ve had enough of that.

I have started singing again. In front of people. I feel like I need to throw up every time, just waiting for someone to make a joke. A comment. But the more I sing, the more confident I become. The lighter my heart is. The less I care about how I sound, and the more I care about how music makes me feel.

The world needs more music. If you have ever listened to someone sing in front of another person for the first time, if you have heard their voice crack in vulnerability and strengthen as they carry on, then you already know it is the most beautiful sound in the world.

So sing. And make sure the world is listening.

Her Rage

April 4, 2021 / Meghan Victoria

I am getting acquainted with my rage.
Learning her edges, her boundaries, her heat.
Coaxing her from the box to which she has been banished for so long. Too long.
Banished, because rage is such a dirty word for a woman to wield.
An unladylike word. Too much. Too hard.
Angry woman.
Nasty woman.

But there is no light without darkness. And I have been afraid of my darkness for far too long.
I have been afraid of everything for far too long.

Afraid of being rejected by those from whom I so desperately seek approval.
Afraid of neglecting the deepest parts of myself in exchange for social safety.
Afraid of not being enough, of being too much, of caring too much, of being perceived to care too little, of every single interaction as if my worth is tied to external validation rather than the power that swims deep in my veins.

I have been so worried about being rejected, unwanted, cast out.
But now, rejection is the stone upon which I whet my rage.

I reject the container that society has built to cage me.
The expectation that I will tear my sisters down rather than build them up.
The myth that I should be seen and not heard.
Every tale ever told designed to keep me small and weak and alone.

I reject the expectation that my body is anyone’s business but my own.
That what I lose and what I gain and what I grow and cut and mark is something to be commented upon.
Judged upon.

I reject the rule that my relationships must adhere to standards passed down by men too afraid to witness a woman’s passion laid bare and her heart laid open.
That love is finite.
That my sexuality must be defined as either this, or that. For I am neither this nor that and my relationship, whatever they may be, are mine and mine alone.

I reject the notion that I must choose – soft or hard, light or dark, feminine or masculine.
I reject the expectation that I dress a certain way, act a certain way, talk a certain way to make the world comfortable.The world needs to be less comfortable with what is, because what is is killing us, slowly and quickly in all the ways we will not realize until we wake up one day and see that we have been dead for all this time.

I reject the thought that I cannot be both enraged and have unconditional love in my heart.

I reject every word uttered with the intent to maim and wound, sentences brandished like scalpels, precise cuts to the core in jealousy and fear.

I am not here for your pleasure.
I am not here to shield you from your insecurities.
I am not here for your standards.

I am getting acquainted with my rage. Learning her power, her love, her voice.
The box has been opened.
And if I am to be a warning, a cautionary tale, like Pandora, like Eve, like every woman framed to be an agent of chaos,
Let the warning be this.
Our voices cannot be tamed.
Our bodies cannot be claimed.
And if you try to take our mother given power, we will rise.
And we will rage.

You Were Born for This. All of It.

March 9, 2021 / Meghan Victoria

There is a hand written letter that sits on my altar. Like everything that graces this sacred space, it was a gift. Secured from drafts of air by a moonrock, it sits opposite my incense burner, beside my candles of light and dark, behind gifts of stone and string and beads and leather. I am lucky to have so many teachers in my life – mentors who, like guiding lights, help me reconnect to my roots, to my power, to myself. And at a time of particular overwhelm and uncertainty, one of these teachers wrote me this letter.

It is one of my most prized possessions.

Today, I had one of those mornings where I question everything. What is my purpose? What am I supposed to be doing? What is the point of this thing called life? I knelt before my altar and pled my case: show me the path, show me the path, please please please show me the path. And as I begged the universe to show me my path, my eyes lit on two sentences that curled through the centre of my sacred letter.

You were born for this. All of it.

The thing about paths is that they don’t always lead to our chosen destination. They can be tricksy, sneaky things – curling and winding and branching. We may think we have lost our way, only to end up somewhere better than we ever could have imagined. Or we may think we know exactly where we’re going, only to find a twelve headed dragon blocking the way.

Most of us crave certainty. If I take A to B, and B to C, I will end up at D. It’s why we gravitate towards the light, shy from the darkness that limits our line of sight. But life itself is uncertain. The more we cling to our carefully laid plans, avoid surprises, and rigidly stay the course, the more we close ourselves to messages from the universe, or god, or the creator – take your pick. And the message the universe seems to keep wanting me to learn is this: we don’t need to have it all figured out. We don’t always need to know. Sometimes, we must simply trust our gut, have faith in our intuition, and step into the dark of the unknown.

Wherever your heart takes you, whether a path of gold or one lined with monsters, remember that you were born for this. The struggles, the triumphs, the uncertainty and pain and joy and everything in between. You were made for THIS life. Embrace all of it. Every messy, gorgeous, glorious minute. In the words of my teacher, live lavishly and walk gracefully.