“You have gone off topic,” men often say to me, and to other women from what I have heard. “You keep mixing your metaphors,” a male editor complained to me about my writing when we were creating a blog series together. “I’m not sure I follow you. Can we get back on track?,” is another oft-repeated comment.
Historically I have responded to this genre of commentary, always from men, with embarrassment and a commitment to clean up my act. “Go back to editing,” I would tell myself. “Try to learn how to write with logic and consistency..”
While I have learned from these exchanges, I am now in a position to question the overall premise that to be effective, convincing, and eloquent, writing has to follow a male definition of consistency and logic. I am a somatic writer; I have always preferred poetry. Now, though, I feel emboldened to take the step of weaving my poetry into my prose. I took a giant step in that direction when I wrote The Secret of Resilience. I am now ready to leap further.
I seek a language that meets the data informed logicians with so much sensuality and seduction that they throw down their defenses and surrender to the language of women. I think this is necessary for the kind of unified field of consciousness that is needed in the world to offset the forces that want to drag us backward into barbarism.
My campaigns to evoke more articulation from women have the intention of increasing the number of women in leadership as the change-makers that I know can draw us out of this meta crisis. I want to increase the volume and amplitude of this campaign now.
It is, of course, impossible to generalize about how women write. When I speak I find I need some space to let the disparate parts of my comments assemble themselves into a cohesive, coherent whole. I know that will happen, and I sometimes use language to create the space for the evolution. I make the process obvious. I think that is great. I am tired of attempting to erase it.
There is also a simplicity in what I write. At least I see it that way. I want to celebrate that also. I want the simple heartfelt voice of my feminine being, drenched in compassion and a supportive faith in potential, to have its way with my words. I am a good editor. I know how to tighten things up, but I don’t want to tighten them up so much that the femininity is squeezed out of my writing.
I retract the criticism I make of myself that my writing is not sophisticated enough, not complex enough, and not written in the intellectual dialect of acclaimed, and even popular poets and writers. I celebrate the writing that is as authentic as a mother praying for her child who is sick or starving or in danger, or a physician who realizes that she can never provide the quality of care she wants to give within the parameters of the healthcare system, or because the resources are just not there.
I want to evoke the writing of women who are the single mothers of children with disabilities and who are trying to make a living, give loving care to their child, and maintain their own wellbeing. I want the women who are trying to reclaim themselves from the ravages of patriarchy to speak out for and to their sisters. Simply. In voices that are natural to us.
I want the language of women to be heard, which means we have to make space for that and this requires courage and confidence.
The poem I wrote this morning, and the experience behind it, helps me lead like this.
Initiation
In my 80th year I am initiated into the heart of the feminine.
The ceremony is simple.
I face myself in the mirror of life.
I reflect the gratitude that transcends the suffering.
I experience unity with all people.
I draw to me the sisters with whom I am forever joined
In service to the all-embracing Mother.
There is no other to blame or accuse.
The way forward is clear and exquisitely beautiful.
Nothing prevents me from advancing.
The light soothes all the wounds to my spirit.
I am woven into the garments of the Mother.
I am her finger, a fold in her gown, an eyelash, a
Tear of compassion, rolling down her check.
In my 80th year, I am initiated into the heart of the feminine.
The warrior, the priestess, the maiden, the mother, and the crone,
All are present at once to inform and protect me.
My intelligence is radiant as Her eyes shine through mine.
To see with her vision is the complete redemption of all suffering.
No pilgrimages to exotic places. No ceremonies, sacred objects,
Chants, or filmy costumes. There is no seduction except
Presence, illumination. A buoyant peace that
Gently enters the grounded awareness of all that is,
And consumes everything.
The day is soft, and I hear birds from all directions.
The wind lifts the leaves from the trees,
Lifts the petals from the flowers,
And carries the birdsong far and wide.
My language does not have to be fancy, intricate, or
Obfuscating.
There are no complex routes to the message of this initiation.
It is straightforward. A gesture of belonging. No one is excluded.
For once I have the gift of needing nothing.
My new poetry book, The Great Physician: Medicinal Poetry for the Anthropocene, is now available! Click the link to purchase.
“Stephanie Mines speaks a language of the soul. She brings forward what is often difficult to express but is simultaneously deeply felt in our present realm. Her words are intended for everyone to understand and grow in strength and wisdom. And for this I am grateful. Every week I await her next message and share it with friends.” ~ Erika Huston, New Zealand
"I seek a language that meets the data informed logicians with so much sensuality and seduction that they throw down their defenses and surrender to the language of women. I think this is necessary for the kind of unified field of consciousness that is needed in the world to offset the forces that want to drag us backward into barbarism."
This is so exciting, Stephanie! I couldn't agree more 💕🙏
So heartening, Stephanie. Thank you!