A week ago today, I read your book When Women Were Birds: Fifty-Four Variations on Voice in one sitting, without stopping. I then spent the next hour or so copying portions of your book into my journal. I didn't want it to be over. I still don't. I want to share your book with everyone I encounter. I want to read out loud quote after quote after quote. I want everyone to listen:
Each of us has one [a voice]. Each voice is distinct and has something to say. Each voice deserves to be heard. But it requires the act of listening. [p.28]
Behind darkness is our fear. Within silence our voice dwells. What is required from both is that we be still. We listen. We see and we hear. The unexpected emerges. John Cage sees the act of listening as the act of creation. 
The courage to continue before the face of despair is the recognition that in those eyes of darkness we find our night vision. Women blessed with death-eyes are fearless. 
Creativity is another form of open space, whose very nature is to disturb, disrupt and "bring us to tenderness". 
But I believe my own voice continues to be found whenever I am being present and responding from my heart, moment by moment. My voice is born repeatedly in the fields of uncertainty. 
In Rwanda, they say a person's silence can be heard as a lion's roar. 
How shall I live? I want to feel both the beauty and the pain of the age we are living in. I want to survive my life without becoming numb. I want to speak and comprehend words of wounding without having those words become the landscape where I dwell. I want to possess a light touch that can elevate darkness to the realm of stars. 
Your book was gifted to me by my beloved friend, PEACEsista, who inscribed it this way: "A powerful and meaningful book to carry you forward in 2013." At first, I had wondered why PEACE hadn't put my name in the blank rectangle on the very first page of your book; the one that says: "THIS JOURNAL BELONGS TO" followed by an empty line. I thought about it for a couple of hours, then I figured out why: filling that empty space was my responsibility. So I did. It now says -- in my handwriting:
THIS JOURNAL BELONGS TO
Flannista, who has a voice.
Thank you, and I hope I have the opportunity to meet you some day.
With gratitude, Flannista