The Voice as a Vessel

Why is it so hard to speak truth?

The below text is a transcript of a recording I did with some light edits. Would love to hear your thoughts on this stream of consciousness.

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This recording is an experiment - part experiment in trust, part experiment in courage - but all an experiment through voice.

I’ve been sitting with the concept, the idea, the feeling of the Voice for quite a while now. It's mostly come through recordings that I've listened back to from the Soulcast, and reflections on my newsletter.

And though I've loved them - the words I've written have been some of the stuff I've been most proud of as an artist - the recordings have always left a little bit of a funny taste in my mouth. Like, they’re good, but it ain't me. It doesn’t sound like me. I don’t speak like that. That’s not my voice.

The experiment I want to partake in is just to see what happens if I put a mic in front of me and press record - and trust that I’ll know what to say. I don’t need to rely on a heavily edited script; but my voice - as an instrument of Source, as a weapon of love - knows what to say.

Even if it doesn’t come out perfect, even if it’s not exactly how I planned it out to be, trust that that’s just what needed to be said - not what I wanted to say.

So the voice. What voice are we actually talking about when we speak about “the voice”?

Is it the voice within?
Is it the voice from above?
Is it the voice of the hidden enemy that tells you you’re not good enough, that there’s no point in even trying because you’re going to fail - why even bother?

To be a little more specific, I’m talking about the voice within.

And within that voice, there’s a voice even deeper - and this voice is always trying to give birth to you through you.

Most people who know me - know me - may find it really tricky to believe that my voice hasn’t always been so clear. I spent many years of my life; up until my mid-to-late 20s - just being completely disconnected from my voice.

Having no idea what I actually sounded like. But also being unconscious of it. Not just having no idea of what I sounded like, but no idea how to actually express my voice in its authenticity.

Authenticity - from the same root word as “author.”
Author being the writer of the story.

As I’ve been able to develop, sharpen, deepen my voice, I’ve been able to create my story much more vividly - with a lot more colour, a lot more volume, a lot more love, a lot more depth.

So knowing how to connect to my voice - at the bottom of the wellspring of my truth, and being able to express that cleanly has become such an important part of my journey.

I remember there was a time where I couldn’t even physically share the truth that was in my heart.

There was this girl I used to date.

It was a very intense connection from the get-go. Super high chemistry, going from complete strangers to being with each other almost all the time.

Obviously, that intense level of love can be a little bit like a drug. I often tell people when they first fall in love, it’s like they’re on crack - so be careful. Because there’s a devil’s cocktail of hormones that are completely clouding your judgment.

And man, my judgment was cloudy.

There were red flags popping up left, right, and centre that I was just ignoring. Not even ignoring - I wasn’t even aware of them. I was completely unconscious of them.

And after a month or two, as they always do, these cracks started to emerge.

It got to a point where I was sharing, just out of curiosity - “Hey, when you said this, what did you mean?”

I won’t go into the specifics of who said what, but I was inquiring to see - what was said and why, because I didn’t feel it was congruent to my truth.

The response would be, “No, no, no, that’s not what I said. That’s not what I said.”

And I had this feeling of, “Oh, I must have been wrong. I must have not seen that correctly.”

Sure enough, a couple of weeks later, same thing happens. Once again I bring it up. Once again, I get the same response: “No, no - you just misunderstood. What I really meant to say was this…”

And once again, I betrayed myself.

Because what I saw and felt was not the same as what she told me I saw and felt - and I believed her.

It went back and forth like this to the point where I was like, “No, actually this is not right.”

Because my friends started to share the same reflections with me.

And relationships aside - I don’t care how hot you are, how awesome you are, how dope you are - if my homies are coming to me with something, I will trust them. Because I know they have my best intentions at heart.

And to hear them share the same reflections with me was really quite sobering.

I spoke about betrayal earlier. The betrayal didn’t come from her betraying me with falsifications.

The biggest betrayal was the way I betrayed myself.

So I called it off.

At this age of my life, I wasn’t the sort of person that would go through a conscious uncoupling, shall we say. I would just be like, “No, I’m done, I’m out.” Classic avoidant tendencies.

She continued to call me and try to make amends, but because of the pain I felt, it just felt too hard to address.

I was not ready to share what I wanted to, even though I’d been planning for weeks to say what was on my heart. To share what was there and what was alive for me.

Have you ever had that experience where you’re like, “I can’t wait for this conversation. I’m gonna say this, and then this…” and then you get to the conversation - and you just crumble?

That’s literally what happened to me. My whole body - when it came time to share what I’d experienced in that relationship - which was completely unaligned with her version of things - was frozen.

Not even frozen - it was like a seesaw, just vibrating hectically from one side to another.

I kind of blurted out a few vague points that didn’t make sense, but it just withered away. And I let it be.

Looking back at the time, I did feel disappointed with myself - but that was so huge for me. Even though I didn’t exactly say what I wanted to say, even though I didn’t get it right, even though it wasn’t perfect or polished - it was a huge step in my journey of learning how to speak my truth.

You see, I grew up in an environment where it wasn’t okay for me to be honest. If I tried to express how I felt or what I needed, I’d get slapped down - literally, physically.

So I had to completely rewire this part of me that was incapable of sharing a truth. I would run into relationships with high-octane levels of energy and then run back out, because I wasn’t able to confront what I was really feeling within myself, let alone with others.

I learned I had to actually change this.

And it started with my best friend.

What I realised was: I needed to create concentric circles of safety. If I can’t speak the truth with my best friend, who can I speak the truth with?

Luckily for me, my best friend has quite a few annoying features. The things I love about her the most are also some of the things that piss me off the most.

Sure enough, something came up for me. I had the opportunity to speak to it.

I pulled her aside. I was completely honest.

Even as I was speaking, I noticed my whole body seize up, like - “Hey bro, don’t do this. It’s not safe. Remember what happened last time?”

All these undigested, unmetabolised, unprocessed emotions came up and met the present - as if there was danger, even though there wasn’t.

And I explained to her, with a quivering voice:

“I just have to be honest. I love you, and I want you to know I’m trying. But this is something that’s a bit tough for me. When you did this, I didn’t really like it. It made me feel this way. Maybe next time we can have a conversation about it - you can tell me how it lands for you.”

I was dancing around just being direct and honest for quite a while. Bless her - she must have got quite frustrated waiting for me to get to the bloody point.

But I got there.

I was expecting her to cast me aside - to do the same thing my ex had done: deny my reality, tell me that’s not how it is, that I’m wrong.

But instead - she did something different.

She welcomed me. She let me in. She apologised.

And that started a whole cascade of awakenings for me, where I would flex that muscle of truth as regularly as I could.

Just like going to the gym - I’m not going to bench press 150 kilos in one go - but I can flex the muscle of truth.

Of honesty.

It’s been such a powerful journey for me.

This has been the journey of vocal reclamation.

To be able to use my voice to create intimacy. To build worlds. To manifest visions. To inspire others.

The voice is so powerful.

It is the gateway into the infinite.

It’s how we express God’s energy through our body.

Voices can spark riots - and they can also spark revolutions.

One voice has the potential to change so much.

For someone who didn’t know what their voice sounded like for so long - it feels so empowering to reclaim it.

And to do it with you, right now.

I’m so grateful to have you listen to this.

Because for ages, I was not the person I am today. For so long.

Now - I am the person that that version of me needed.

The little boy cowering under the stairs.

The one he prayed for.

And I hope this serves as a reminder for us - not to swallow our truth.

To know that if we’re embodied enough, if we’re clear enough - we know exactly what the right thing to say is.

It might not be perfect, but it’s what’s needed.

We live in a world where we often swallow our truth to avoid upsetting others.

But truth without love is cold.
Love without truth is cowardice.

A lot of people think that hate is the opposite of love - but it ain’t. It’s apathy.

Because even in hate, there is a seed of love. A longing for it.

So hate can’t be the opposite of love.

One of the reasons we’re seeing so much apathy in the face of the polycrisis is because of all the swallowed love. All the love without truth - and all the truth without love.

Truth without love is cold.
Love without truth is cowardice.

True Love is how we connect to the Great Mystery. To God. To Source.

And true love is how we create Heaven on Earth.

Thank you.

And thank you if you’ve made it this far - for being part of this experiment.

I really hope you’ve taken some value from this.

If you’re in Melbourne on the 22nd of May, I’m running a magic show with an open mic at the end. I’ll be doing the same in Bundjalung on Wednesday the 21st.

Please come along if you’re around.

Anyone who comes will get a free ticket to my “Rich Artist” workshop in Melbourne on the 24th of May as well.

All the links below.

Big love.
Chat soon.

Magic Words May 21 (Byron) + May 22 (Melb) tickets here.
The Rich Artist tickets here.