"How does your soul sound?"
Can you imagine being asked, on a Monday morning team huddle, of all days and times, “What does your soul sound like? What vibrations are wanting to form from the corners of your mouth?”
If Monday blues had a face, it would probably be the one I made that morning with my signature sound, nice and unfiltered, on a collection of pixels on my laptop screen. Did I get her instructions wrong? Was I supposed to hum? A bit of heat gathered on my cheeks while listening to the twinkling, earthy tunes my teammates made, elegantly roused by the classical piece playing in the background. My sound, for anyone curious, was ughhhhhhhhhhh—
it was a low, sustained groan that came from my chest, the back of my throat, and all the dissatisfaction that had been gathering heavy, slowly swallowing me like quicksand from how I felt and knew that I was underperforming.
It’s not that I disliked the work or our team. Magis was a dream to me, brought to reality by a series of serendipitous events. I loved the work, I loved the beautiful, quirky, odd people in it, and I know that to have the joys of a team and a job you love is a privilege not everyone enjoys. So imagine how frustrating it was for me to be unable to bring my self fully into it.
Because of changes I could not have foreseen, the past months since March felt as if both grief and awe, loss and wonder, had split me open, and my contents spilled and splayed everywhere I could lay my eyes on. Very much a mess. I felt as if to stare in the mirror was to look at a stranger, both beastly and beautiful, and to ponder that these things have happened by my hand all feels too big to fathom.
Embracing the exiles
There came a point within that week when Kathy asked her question that I felt things click. “Hindi ko na kayang tiisin ‘to,” (I can’t take this anymore) referring to how kalat (messy) and sabog (all over the place) I felt, like a creaky, rusty bike with nearly-flat tires on rough, unpaved road. Kathy’s sound shepherding experiment guided the truth out of my body, and it was a testament to how crucial asking the right questions are, on a time as crucial as a Monday morning huddle. I wonder how long I would have gone on empty if not for her asking what sounds my soul made that day. Not long after, I talked to Gina and shared what has been going on in my personal life and its effects on me. From moving out of my parents’ home, breaking up with a long term partner, breaking off our engagement, beginning to heal from codependency and people pleasing, coming out as queer, loving and being in relationship with someone new, disappointing people I love to put myself first, and dealing with the joys and sorrows of living life as part of the LGBTQ+ community in contexts that are ambivalent, mostly opposed towards it, ‘ughhhhhhhhhhh’ was as honest as I can be.
What do you need to come home to yourself?
The skin of this emerging self is so new and fragile, that I’ve become keenly aware of my need for the soft and gentle (and fun, to be honest) to enfold my days. In this delicate, vulnerable state, I am experiencing a deeper gratitude for people and places of safety and radical acceptance such as my immediate family, some friends, and my workplace.
They have been with me through many firsts. Doing groceries for myself, making my sweet mom cry at Army Navy, ordering a double-sized mattress, unspotted backsquats, new yoga poses, making friends at the gym…it was also my first time to proactively ask for a break at work. So on those three days I was out of work, I went on my own to the mountains. I walked by the river, slept in a tent under the pouring rain, and went on a hike to Mount Malvar the next morning. And oh how incredibly grounding those days were for me. I wish everyone had access to relationships where you can be soft and unguarded, and be given the space and support you need to gather the scattered pieces of your Self.
The rich experience I had at MoCAF with Gina, my good friend Adi, the workshop participants, and most of all, Robert Alejandro, perhaps was a benevolent gift from the universe to cap my return-to-self reboot. The day after was a Monday, and Kathy asked her question again. I was pleasantly surprised to welcome the arrival of a song:
She holds me closer
Nearer and dearer
Into her arms
I Become myself again
I’m still in the thick of all those changes and of molting from old skin, so I try to be intentional about finding ways to come home and return to myself. It’s fine if I ever find myself in that place of ughhhhhhhh again, and at the same time, I also want to be able to cradle myself with a song. What I’ve found is that it helps to remember that when my soul is a stranger to itself, I am both the mother and the child. I could very well grieve and soothe at the same time. The process of being emptied and consequently, being filled and gathered, requires patience. I can be at ease because I am held by a greater mother all around me— the rivers, mountains, trees, soil, birds, the air, the sun, an embrace, a smile, dancing during a shower, music, laughter, safe spaces, kwentuhan (storytelling), that first sip of coffee, the splendor of small things, the cosmos contained in a single raindrop, beauty since the beginning of time saving the world—mother. I can be soft, I can surrender, I can let all these cradle me home.
The hospitality I offer my exiles can become a presence I give others that offers them permission to come home to themselves, too.
I don’t think we realize enough how our inner lives and lived experiences shape the work we do. I thought I understood it already, generally being a reflective person, but I was both surprised and astonished to find a deeper well to draw from. I wish I had known about Inscaping sooner, and how important this is to effect deep and lasting change through our work. Because of the return to self reboot, I’ve recently (re) started being reflective about my experiences at work and life and it has allowed for some conversations with my different selves to emerge (think journaling at 3 AM with your inner child because self-critical thoughts about workplace performance refuse to let you sleep again). It’s not ideal; I’d love to be able to sleep better, but it’s a start. I was able after all, to forgive and receive forgiveness from myself not just from how I’ve underperformed, but from all the things I’ve had to let go, all the people I chose to disappoint, so I could allow myself to live as my true self. This act of self-love and of embracing my beastly parts too, fuels my work as a pastoral counselor and expressive arts practitioner. Gosh, what a hard pill to swallow.
Not everyone has some sort of sage or shepherd in their lives who asks them questions like ‘What does your soul sound like on this fine Monday morning’. If you’re reading this, maybe take a moment or two, to be your own shepherd, or mother, if you prefer, and ask yourself kamusta na nga ba ako? Ano bang nararanasan ko ngayon? (How am I, really? What am I going through?)
You don’t have to be the sentimental sort to have to ask yourself this question or any other creative iteration of it. You just need to be a human, trying to do your best to survive, maybe thrive, in this beautiful, beastly world, as your beautiful, beastly self. In the field of expressive arts, when we engage with art pieces, we acknowledge both the beauty and beastliness of it. You’re art too, you know, and all your parts, whether beastly or beautiful, have the right to be embraced. Your whole self deserves to be embraced. Even the exiles. Especially the exiles.