The Other Mother Tongue - Speaking In All The Flavours

She Held Her Tongue No More

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Hello Readers,

In my last musing to you I may have set you astray - I claimed to have a short poem for you, and yet it was kind of long. The thing is these transmissions and explorations take me into a place of timelessness. In that I have little concept of length or minute, and the short of it is this - I get carried away in the play of words and images.

My tongue gets elated in the exploration of a feeling, an adventure. This is the same way I engage in sport - just a little further. My excitement energizes me. In truth it was shorter than some previous writings. Your time and sense of it matters to me. Sometimes what we want and what we get are two sides of the same thing.

The past decade I have been fascinated by voice and expression. It has led me to unknown places, it has marked me with incredible inspiration, and it has filled me up with so much to say. I can be a bit quiet or seem reserved. I am a deep thinker. My plan with this Substack is to not live in my head and to embody what I discover. When I start speaking, I can be like a wind-up music box that has a lots of turns to make.

When things boost me with strong emotion, I ponder sharing the fierceness of it as is - yet anger leaves a burn on my tongue that is raw and unrefined. It leaves me charged and I am aware of my own power.

As the Stellar Jay essence reminds - use power with responsibility. They are a loud bird in color and song. They sqauwk in my yard calling attention to their shimmering blue feathered bodies. I wonder why a stunning bird sounds so terrible. Then recently on a woodland walk I heard the most beautiful music and spotted the Jay. At seeing me it switched back to squawk. Filling the air with harsh sound, an auditory protection, a stern projection.

I do the opposite - try to share my best self and only those close (mostly) and my journal see the worst. I’ve also learned when we withhold truths they can stack up like dirty dishes. There’s a risk of falling from grace like a jenga race.

There are a plethora of tools and practices to alchemize emotions and take it full circle. The strength from moving from the chaos of the inner storm to the calm within the fresh moment is medicine. Pacification can take on a double edged form.

What I am choosing today to bring to the collective unfolding is my own way. I cannot will not sit by while the world breaks into pieces without offering a thread of another possibility. Pieces can make a new puzzle complete. Completion is fleeting anyway.

The turning is dazzled with changing light. Without the shadows life can be too bright. Does rage have a place on stage as a place of awakening? Let’s not pretend it doesn’t.

We are more than less the same. Our tongues are built to handle all the flavours with 10,000 taste buds!! Without the bitter and salty there is no sweet and my fav flava is sour and that mysterious Unami. There are even more flavours of the Goddess / Gods of here and there and everywhere.

What speaks in many tongues is holy.

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This Months Poem:

Speaking in Tongues, in 2 parts

1.

She spoke with a long tongue that stretched out far reaching right into the gut
and a
Soft tongue that spilled whispers like tiny seeds into rich soil
and a
Bold tongue that threw echoes out of caves across mountains tall
and a
Restless tongue that wandered looking for ears to listen
and a
Curious tongue that wondered and wandered asking all the questions
and a
Sharp tongue that slayed and slashed, taking no prisoners
and a
Gentle tongue carrying compassion with passion
and a
Tired tongue from weaving worlds and controlling tones
and a
Shy tongue that watched from hiding pondering the universe
and a
Heavy tongue from things unsaid and held instead
and a
Happy tongue that breathed hot air on cold days under a bright sky
and an
Ivory tongue bathed in milky gratitude expressed in song
and a
Brave tongue that rattled truth from muscle, sinew, bone
and a
Wise tongue that embraces words heard from the heart
and a
Thirsty tongue seeking both the wet, the tasty and the wild
and a
Fierce tongue here to claim a truth revolution at last
and a
Fresh tongue from speaking this poem out loud.

*****

2.

Some called her two sided tongue
Others said
Split in two tongue
Speaking with a poetic tongue
A sweet tongue

A has her own language tongue
Others heard a running her mouth tongue
But it really was a free from a cage tongue

The truth was her tongue was one muscle with many strengths

A tongue with a reach extending beyond its length

The truth is her tongue needed the bitter the salty the sweet the sour and the savoury to feel satisfied

She had a tongue that wanted truth, but sometimes got held in silence or tangled with words that were not hers

She tasted a life that was hers with her tongue of longing, content or not with choices made in belonging

Scarred with mixed feelings pierced with a raw past her tongue sought a song that would share a love to last

A tongue liberated in living beyond measure finding a way to make meaning with pleasure

Not needing to please with dreams born from heart giving fully formed

A tongue that tripped when it sometimes minced in waves that skipped in time as it slipped into a poem quieting a mind that never quits to listen

Her gift was golden when she stopped holding a tongue hungry to be emboldened

Her tongue held all the flavours, named and waiting

A tongue spiked with protest and calmed with rest

Whatever the condition or the call She knew her voice wanted to travel inside and past it all 

A determined tongue deciding to stay on the courage express daringly making its way

The Goddesses sat on her hanging tongue and then she knew what to keep, what to burn and what to say. 

N<>N

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I’d love to hear from you, and/or spark your own investigation of what your tongue wants to say. It’s not about being kind…all the time… what is left unsaid can lead to dread that burrows into the bones. We are more powerful than we know. We can both hold and let go. We can sail the seas of turmoil into a horizon that is yet to unfold.

It is a noisy world out there.

As I finish this post, the Steller Blue Jay came to visit, balancing on the wooden fence, surprisingly quiet, it left feathers on my doorstep.

With Care,

~Nichola

@the embodied explorer

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Nichola Napora is a Well Keeper, Wind Dancer & Scribe of the Wild Fire Flowers.

To this newsletter I bring transmissions and translations of these wild mysterious experiences combined with alchemical love activism through art, poetry and story. If you’ve read this far you are a rock star and I am grateful for you too. When we witness this beautiful earth and each other’s experiences - this is what creates a truly rich life.

Mystic Peaks Studio acknowledges with great respect that we live and work on the traditional territories of the Lil̓wat7úl (Lil’wat) Nation and the St'át'imc Nation. MPS honours the legacy of life unfolding from time immortal.

We offer our work in gratitude to the one song of the wild. On this jewel we sing.

Presented by Mystic Peaks Studio