The Voice of Silence

Dedicated to all who are lost or taken. Let these words find you like a gentle breeze, softening the silence and guiding you home.

Dear Beloved,

It's easy to hide behind our words—harder to let others read them—and harder still not knowing how they’ll be received, or what they‘ll reveal to others who find them threatening, tender, or true.

These words reflect something many of us experience, often unspoken, regardless of whether we’re therapists or not.

We are all participants and witnesses to the human condition, navigating connection and vulnerability in a world where, sadly, many learn not to trust the words of others, as well as their own.

Recently, while out on the ocean with a client nearing the shore, I felt the light of joy in my heart when they suddenly declared, “I like working with you because of who you are.”

Feeling the light flowing within and between us, I gently respond, "Thank you for your honesty, but how do you know who I am, and how does that help you?”

They smile and say, "Because of the way you write and speak—not just what you say, but how you say it. It’s your inner voice, the one that comes from your heart, that helps me feel that I’m seen, and am not alone.“

I pause, letting their words settle. There’s something sacred in being seen this way—not as a therapist or a writer, but simply as a person.

Sensing the water welling up and the seas parting in my heart, I clear my throat and respond, "I’m deeply moved by your words. I’m so glad we found each other—and that you are finding your voice—the light inside that will guide you home.“

As I look around me and feel the presence of others, I hope these words find a place in your heart, not just for what you do, but for who you are —the person you were always meant to be. That's what it means to be visible, not just to others but to yourself.

May you find the time to write or talk to someone who cares and can hear your voice when you see the light inside yourself through each other’s eyes.

Make time and space, letting time unfold into the space, rather than trying to control it. Read or write, finding the poetry in the words—the ones you see or hear in your heart.

And, in this place, notice the silence.

Breathe into it, and let it spread throughout your body—not to find the right words, but to remember the sound of your voice. The voice of truth that lives in all of us.

That’s the place where the words that matter most can be heard and don’t need to hide anymore, no longer fearful of saying the wrong thing, or seeing the closed or scared eyes of those who can’t hear the beauty of your song.

Feel the space inside where the words land, like sinking into a soft bed of grass or feeling a gentle breeze on your face.

Notice the beat and rhythm of the drumming inside you—how it’s changing—becoming a force of energy and love no one can stop or take away.

That’s the transformation and healing, as you remember who you are—the wounded child, wandering a while, getting closer to the light inside your heart.

Be present with the joy and the sadness—the melodies never heard because it was not safe to do so. Notice that it is—now.

Let yourself receive the light you’ve always deserved—and, when the time is right, shine it on others, so they too can remember who they are and why they matter.

That's your forgiveness—not forgetting what happened, but not letting it take away the love you have inside.

The obvious but painful truth is that you are loved and are not alone. It goes without saying, but it’s okay to find that in our voice more often, wherever we are sitting in the room.

I hope you can hear it now, and that it‘s real—in body, heart, mind, and soul.

Giving voice is not about being the loudest or writing the most; it's about being authentic. It's finding the courage to speak from the still place beneath the noise—no longer trying to be heard, only to be true.

Despite the pain of being silenced, finding one's voice and that of others, knowing in your heart that you are finally home, together again in the light of invisibility.

In the voice of silence, welcome home—knowing in my heart that you are here, even though I can’t see you yet,

Marc

Comments or questions? Email me at mcecilvt@aol.com. Feel free to share these words—and this blog—with anyone you hold, or long to be held by, in the light of invisibility.

Dr. Cecil is a licensed psychologist, certified AEDP supervisor, approved EMDR consultant, and senior CSRT consultant. He specializes in treating complex relational, developmental, and transgenerational trauma, bringing therapy to life through heartfelt stories and images of connection and healing that emerge from the light of invisibility.