I Am Thrashing - The Sounds of the Thrashing Voice

TO CELEBRATE THE OCTOBER RELEASE OF MY BOOK THRASHING ABOUT WITH GOD, AND TO EXPAND THE CONVERSATION BEYOND MYSELF, I HAVE ASKED 31 BRAVE PEOPLE TO SHARE A GUEST POST WITH THE THEME OF #IAMTHRASHING. THESE ARE PEOPLE I HAVE PERSONALLY DIALOGUED WITH, PEOPLE WHO I KNOW HAVE RISKED A LOT TO WRESTLE WITH THE HARD STUFF THAT COMES WITH SPIRITUALITY. OUR FAITH MAY NOT LOOK LIKE YOURS, BUT WE WELCOME YOU TO THE DISCUSSION.


I want to shout at the top of my lungs, just so I can hear my voice. I want the shrill, the screeching to shatter and destroy the world I've created to fit into someone else's box. And I will not care how ugly, beastly, unkept and wild it fucking sounds. No, I cannot say how awesome and pure white my life is, because it has been a harrowing journey, and my feet are bloody and bent from small shoes, too small, but pretty on the outside. I don't expect you to understand the nightmares that haunted me. Even within the world wide web, I've morphed and shaped into other people's voices and worlds to feel safe, loved and accepted. Some kind of maternal attention, direction, guidance that I felt unworthy to receive. It has exhausted all my resources to keep up a heavy halo. 

I realize no one knows how to nurture this voice, this life better than me.  I just want to hear my voice. I want my voice to acknowledge me, to guide me, to soothe my pain. I want my voice to be heard, and I don't fucking give a shit if you like the sound of it. Don't try to edit me, correct me, perfect me into a saint or guru or Jesus or divine feminine. I want to hear my voice grieving. I will hear my voice sound angry and full of rage. I want to hear my voice. I only want to hear my voice for now. Honor all the complexities, even the dark recesses. Give it space. Give it air. Give it love and regenerate the valves that I once shut off for fear of its effect. My voice isn't pretty, and I am not going to lie about it. If you don't like it, I don't give a damn. I want nothing more than the peace of abiding to my voice. I'm done with mutilating my body, my voice, my life, so you feel more secure. I wasn't born to make you feel comfortable. I was born to abide to this voice. 


Rhina Ju: I’m a collector of sea stories. I feel my way through the sea of life and its full spectrum of experience. I believe in wholeness, second chances, and the inherent power of the human spirit. Raised by my grandparents - a nomadic military chef and mystic storyteller who converted religion three times in her life, I was bred on stories, ritual and old-world cooking. My first memory of home is my grandmother’s altar of smoky jasmine incense and life-size golden Buddhist statues. This feeling of home is my compass for truth and beauty in my art, writing, business and life.