Cotton candy clouds
I’d shut myself up at some point. The honest, open, and talkative girl I knew had, unknowingly, traded in her voice for timidity and quietness. Every feeling, every story, and every thought that confidently passed through the gates of my mind and danced on the way to my tongue met a fragmented bridge to their destination. I tolerated this timidity until it manifested while I was at Target’s CrushCon last year in Minneapolis.
Prior to that trip, I was questioning my ability to communicate. At the heart of everything I am and everything do I am a storyteller; I am an orator of experiences that touch close to home. I used to write poetry, but my medium shifted to digital art a few years back. This practice initially was a passing hobby a release in a season of upheaval. I was putting forth the energy I so desperately needed to receive, and I did. So many folks shared their love and stories and support with me, and I continued to make and share my artwork. This work was my voice, but when I found myself wanting to speak again, my actual voice retreated. There was a problem with the bridge. The more I pushed the more the resistance grew, so I folded back into timidity.
The words would be there, and my thumbs would be at the ready to begin typing long stories and excerpts and think-pieces. The moment I would touch pen to paper, thumb to screen, or open my mouth to speak, a Goliath-sized resistance would swallow them whole. There were so many stories, so many thoughts, so many feelings, so many expressions, so many things just waiting. Hell, I was waiting — waited for something to happen. No matter what courage I mustered, I would always run back into these safe places that now felt like emotional and mental prisons. I would retreat and trap everything that wanted so desperately to be free.
CrushCon was when I realized the extent of this suppression. On Day 2 of the convention, a breath worker did a breathing exercise with us as we all laid flat on the colorful rugs we scattered across the floor of the room. She spoke to us about creative breathing and how it helps open a creative flow through holistic relaxation. It’s a three-step process: deep breath through the belly, then into the chest, and exhale fully through the nose. She encouraged us all to close our eyes, lie in a savasana, and start to breathe. I closed my eyes and followed her instructions.
“Belly-chest-exhale. Belly-chest-exhale. Belly-chest-exhale.”
I’d like to note: with previous experience doing yoga, I’d never been able to reach total relaxation in savasana, so I wasn’t hopeful to reach it here.
Ironically, my body started to relax immediately. Still energy travelled from the soles of my feet, up to my legs, and into my hips. It moved into my core, around the centre, and shot into the tips of my fingers… At this point, the darkness of my eyelids began to feel less dark and the muscles behind my eyes relaxed along with my clenched jaw and my mind. My ears grew slightly hot then found a comfortable warmth, and in an instant, I was transported table sky and a blanket of stratocumulus clouds the colour of cotton candy. Everything was endless and peaceful here — I was free. I stayed in that vision while the energy continued to move up my arms and into my shoulders. Once it found my throat and mouth, it stopped.
At first, there was nothing, no sound, no sensation, no movement. All was still, and then I felt my throat trembling in a way I imagine is like the way Rice Krispies snap, crackle, and pop in a small bowl of milk. I remembered learning that when this happens it’s important to let it, just as much as it is to note where it’s happening. The significance of where it was happening was that it was in the area responsible for my voice, and it was bound up. My jaw tremored and my teeth chattered, and everything in me knew that God was speaking. The Holy Spirit came upon me, and I wanted to stay there longer. I wanted to know what was happening and see where this vision would take me, or if it would take me anywhere at all. I wanted to understand; I wanted to hear God’s voice if He was about to speak, but the exercise had to come to an end at some point. When we all were encouraged to come back, open our eyes, and sit up, I felt thoughtful; I had been since.
Public speaking has never been my strong suit. My voice gets shaky and my mouth gets dry; my words fumble. I say “um” and “like” and “so yeah” a lot. It’s like standing in the middle of a room for all eyes to see. Someone is always watching, listening, responding, engaging, and reacting. Maybe people are listening; maybe they’re paying close attention; maybe they’re taking notes. Maybe they’re doing none of these things, but that doesn’t make a difference because sharing my voice for a group of people to hear scares me. How can one of my greatest insecurities be also one of my greatest talents? God set it up that way.
It reminds me that God is and will always be my audience of One. He will not judge me for what I have to say. He will not draw conclusions or assumptions. He will still love me. My testimony and my experiences create a level of intimacy with God that I desire in every ounce of my being. It’s the connection I crave daily.
Cotton candy clouds — whenever I find myself retreating back into fear and away from that intimacy, I remember one very specific thing:
Cotton candy clouds.
CrushCon 2018 - my family grew bigger on 3 days, and I couldn't be more thankful to God. Follow Target Tag on Instagram @TargetTag!
Instagram handles of everyone in the video: @junipervaleo/ @justyouraverageshrub/ @realslimreaper/ @brawnsome /@conchitaqween /@ashantiafricana/ @thejazzismine/ @acozylittlenookart/ @dillon_ivory/ @lisamarieprang/ @abbiepaulhus/ @quillemons/ @yungcheeto/ @chalayymichele/ @jordanshiley/ @nycxclothes/ @cosmicinsanity/ @am.nda/ @val.ok/ @biddy/ @theharperwatters/ @einerbankz/ @ilianademartini/ @joshkillacky/ @baileysok1/ @stevielyne/ @oskar.me/ @williegreene_/ @wetheurban/ @whenin.rome/ @ssstellth
