Author Terry Tempest Williams’ mother told her, “I am leaving you all my journals, but you must promise me you won’t look at them until after I’m gone.”
Shortly after this declaration, when her mother died from cancer, Williams discovered three shelves of beautiful cloth bound journals. She opened one, then another, then another, only to find them blank. All of them; empty.
This was the catalyst for When Women Were Birds, 54 Variations on Voice.
Why would her mother do this? What was she trying to say, without saying a word?
What do we say without saying a word?
I really liked this book. It consists of 54 chapters, each with its own beauty on the meditation of the mystery of her mother’s blank journals, which in turn, causes the reader to consider her own voice.
She questions what it means to have a voice.
Her mother was Mormon; a culture that espouses journal writing as a place to record one’s personal history.
Her mother, however, was private. But this private?
“Because words fail us….because there are times when what is public and what is private must be discerned.”
Don’t we balance that as bloggers, writers and FB users? There’s a great post at Grown and Flown on finding that on-line balance that begs the same question.
Mothers traditionally withhold their voices to let their children develop their own. Not when they’re very young, but as they develop and especially, I’ve found, when they’re grown. Our “voice” becomes more and more what we do, how we live our lives, what choices we make, how joyful we are. That’s how I best speak to my children now that they’ve flown the nest.
When Women Were Birds was a book I had to read in pieces; a little at a time. It turns through chapters like a kaleidoscope, displaying new colors and patterns.
It’s a book about discernment and silence, about all the things that cannot or perhaps should not be said.
But why the title?
“Once upon a time, when women were birds,
there was the simple understanding
that to sing at dawn and to sing at dusk
was to heal the world through joy.”
Where do you think the author went with that?
What do we say in between?
Have you considered 54, or even 26, aspects of your voice?
You can find When Women Were Birds, 54 Variations on Voice, at this link.
What an interesting puzzle, Barb! To leave three blank journals with orders not to open them until the owner is deceased. Perhaps this mom was secretly hoping her daughter would fill the journals though she was too private to write in them herself? Yes, we bloggers constantly balance between opening ourselves up and keeping parts of ourselves hidden. It’s not easy, is it? Thanks for introducing us to this book — sounds like a good read for the dark days of winter!
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And that’s exactly what she did, Debbie (filled them herself). And it wasn’t just three journals, it was three shelves of journals. A lifetime, almost, of accumulated journals. Never written in by her mother, yet saved and specifically left for her daughter.
If someone were going through my belongings, they also would find beautiful, embellished notebooks, all completely empty. I can’t figure out what to say in them that would be as beautiful as that virgin paper with the pretty cover.
I’m not a journal writing kind of girl. I work out my thoughts and share my fears either in my blog, but more importantly in my emails. My “sent” folder is one of the most valuable things I have … and it doesn’t really exist at all. Through the messages I’ve sent I can watch myself mature, feel sorry for the me who just had her life shattered, and have my heart swell at the telling of accomplishments to friends I knew wouldn’t judge.
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What a profound thought – that the most valuable things you have (as far as voice and a history) don’t really exist at all. Does it give you pause enough to write some of them down in a journal….or better yet – to print them and keep them somewhere? I wonder about all the intangible ways we record things today.
I recently read another review of this book. It sounds intriguing. Perhaps leaving the journals empty was done out of fear of saying the wrong thing. Always a conundrum, speak and perhaps say the wrong thing, which then cannot be taken back, or remain silent. It is a fine balance whilst raising children.
I had an interesting happening with birds recently. Because we live here, close to the river bottoms which has been set aside as wetlands, we get a lot of bird traffic. Especially during the winter. We also have many flowering pear trees, which leave little berries after the leaves have dropped. These berries feed the birds throughout the winter. By spring, the trees are picked clean. I was out in the yard retrieving dog “doodle” before an impending storm. One of the trees was full of birds who were chattering very loudly. I was on the side yard out of the visual field for this tree when suddenly the chattering stopped. Abruptly , simultaneously. I came back around the house where I could see the tree. I thought the birds would have had to suddenly fly away in order to stop vocalizing at the same time, but to my surprise the tree was still completely inhabited by said birds who had become silent all at once. I have never experienced this before. It made me wonder. What were they chattering about? What signal did they use to go silent simultaneously and why did they need silence at that moment. Isn’t it amazing the things we have time to notice once our own chicks have left the nest.
How strange and mysterious, Karen. Yes, it is amazing what we notice when we’re, #1 – alone, and #2 – out in nature. I’ve realized more than once or twice how other creatures who share this planet have definite means of communicating, interesting societies and familial relationships.
Ooooh, how interesting! I would have to read that book just based on the title. I have always had a bird theme running through my life (as do you, obviously) and at various times it has helped me with voice or flight or nesting.
Must check this book out immediately!
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Could it be possible, Katrina, that somewhere back in our ancestral DNA, and I mean way back, we were connected? Birds sing and fly and nest and un-nest – so like us.
What an interesting post to ponder Barbara…Could the birds sing in the morning and at night, because it was the only time they have for themselves and therefore would express joy? I might be reading a bit more into it than what was intended but that what came to my mind
I have to read this book, thank you for sharing, Barbara and for your very kind comment today
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Anyes, the sentence that follow Tempest Williams’ quote about birds singing at dawn and dusk, reads,
“The birds still remember what we have forgotten,
that the world is meant to be celebrated.”
Seems you’re spot on.
There may be all kinds of days in between our dawns and dusks, but to sing in celebration of life each morning and night at the bookmarked beginnings and endings, taking the horrible and the ordinary as well as the best of the best for what they are – is to begin to understand the value of life.
I LOVED this book… she is a gorgeous writer. I have it right on the shelf in my studio so I can refer to it often. xoxo
It kind of reads like that, doesn’t it Kelly? A reference. Each chapter or meditation to be thought about and chewed on. I know that’s how I’ll use it going forward.
Oh. Another book I simply have to add to my growing (and already huge) unread pile.
I love that quote, and interpreted it (different voices for each of us?) to say that simply by doing what comes naturally and greeting and celebrating the start and the end of every day, healing magic will follow.
Thank you so much for your lovely comment on my post at Vision and Verb.
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And thank you for stopping in, Sue. Greeting and celebrating each day is wisdom. This book is a reminder, in circuitous ways, of that.
Now I’m curious. Were there 54 journals? Was her mother 54?
There is eloquence in the act of purchasing the journals, savoring them, leaving them blank – as if to encourage the daughter to create the voice that the mother only dreamed of.
I’m intrigued to discover this book.
And yes, the balance we try to achieve – as women, not only as writers – one that is delicate, shifting, at times perilous.
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Fifty four, BLW, because yes, there were 54 journals, one for every year her mother lived. Purchasing and savoring and encouraging, perhaps. Eloquent in any way you look at it – yes.
You find THE best books! Another I must read!
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Thank you May. I think you’d get a lot from it.
Sounds intriguing. This is a book I surely must read. I have a trunk filled with journals that I began writing as a teen then stopped about 10 years ago. I locked the trunk so my husband and daughters could never read them…then I lost the key. Now I can’t even read them. I’ve debated on breaking the hinges in order to open the trunk. Mostly, though, I think I should just burn the whole thing, without opening or reading them myself. Most entries were written during times of serious and heartaching self-doubt, marital doubt, parenting doubt. I think that’s why I stopped journaling when I did — I stopped doubting myself and my life so much.
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Wow, Lisa. That’s so honest and such a reality with a lot of what we write in journals – like therapy. It helps us through difficult times by allowing us a place to sort through those fears and doubts. I think like the tendency people have to pray when they’re troubled and struggling, and then when they’re happy and things are going good – they forget to get on their knees and just say thank you. They’re stronger. They don’t need the “couch” that a journal allows them. I can see how that’s a dilemma for you. It’s a big part of who you were and how you’ve gotten to the good place you are now, but do they need to see all that?
Such a brave thing to do, in the wake of disappointing her children, and assuming they will understand her motives. I am very curious about this book and will definitely look into it. I was a big fan of diary writing when I was a teen; not so much as I grew older. They are such a telescope into people’s minds. I’ve always sent journals with my boys whenever they went to summer camp or on school trips…only one took the liberty to write in them. I have those books now and they are true treasures into my son’s soul.
I gave each of my kids a journal when they were young too. One son still writes in it – in fact, he’s 27 now and I just gave him a very “manly” one for his birthday – brown suede leather with a leather wrap around strap. He has a one year old daughter and a son of his own on the way and wants to write in one specifically to them. I loved that.
Glad you stopped in and took the time to comment, Mindy. Welcome!
This is absolutely fascinating to me. As a HUGE journal-keeper..I’ve often wondered what my kids might think if they were ever to read all that I’ve written. So much being simple unsubstantiated thoughts..and moods and ideas..and struggles and all of that. Perhaps silence is the better option?
Am definitely going to check this out.
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