Exploring the Throat Chakra: Writing Your Own Story
A long time ago, back when tigers used to smoke, Coyote wandered down a path that he was not looking for…
You see, Coyote had been given a task by the village elders. He would go out into the world and find his voice. He could not return to the comforts of the village until he had found one. So he set off down a dusty trail to see what the world might have in store for him.
Not too far from home, Coyote stumbled upon a river in which a school of salmon were swimming furiously up stream. As they struggled against the current, they leapt into the air over the splashing rapids and the light of the sun shone brightly off of their many scales.
“Perhaps I could swim with the salmon and they would help me find my voice!”, thought Coyote. Without a moment’s hesitation, Coyote dove into the stream and began to swim as fast as he could against the current, desperately trying to keep up with the school of Salmon. Try as he might, he was no match for the mighty river and soon found himself being swept away. But as the current carried him he could hear the Salmon laughing to each other.
“How silly Coyote is to think that he could swim with us! The River will carry him far away and maybe then he will understand that he is no Salmon!”
And the river did just that! The river carried Coyote miles and miles away until finally he was slammed into a structure of twigs and branches that was blocking the river’s way.
Tired, soaked and dripping wet, Coyote pulled himself upon the barrier and shook himself dry. As he looked around to get his bearings, Beaver bumped into him most unkindly with a full bundle of sticks in his mouth. When he saw it was Coyote blocking his way, he spit them out.
“Pew! What are you doing on top of my dam, Coyote!?”, he demanded.
“I am in search of my voice”, answered Coyote. “I’ve been sent by the village elders to find one. I tried to swim with the Salmon, but was washed downstream.”
“Well no wonder”, snorted Beaver. “You are no Salmon and you have no business on the river!”
“But maybe I could help you with your work”, offered Coyote.
Beaver did not really think that Coyote could help much, but he was behind on his work and could see no reason not to try. So he employed Coyote in the continued construction of his dam.
It had not been more than a day before Coyote began to tire of this job. His teeth were not shaped like Beaver’s. He could not chomp down the small sapling trees. His tail was not shaped like Beaver’s. He could not use it to pat all the twigs and sticks together. And his fur was not like Beaver’s. It did not protect him from the constant spray of the river.
By the end of the day he was shivering and drenched and could take it no longer.
“Well”, sighed Beaver, “I do not think your voice will be found here. You are not much of a dam builder. Perhaps you should travel down the river further to see Bear. He may be able to help you find your voice.”
With that, Coyote set off on foot following the bends of the river to see Bear in his den.
After many hours of walking, Coyote found Bear in the forest scratching his enormous paws against a large oak tree. As Coyote approached, he gave a low gruff growl as a greeting and continued about his work.
Coyote looked around him and saw that all the trees in the area were marked by his claws. There were slashes in all directions creating an elaborate pattern through the forest floor and marking his vast territory. Taking a moment to see how it was done, Coyote then scurried off to an unmarked tree to try for himself. He stood up on his hind legs, reared back his right paw and slashed as hard as he could on a young sapling. When he looked to see the marked he had left, there was barely even a scratch.
This sent Bear rolling onto his back laughing loudly.
“Little Coyote thought that he could mark a tree! But he is not as big and strong as Bear and he barely leaves a mark! HAHAHA!”, he laughed and laughed and laughed.
Coyote slunk away with his tail between his legs and not another word.
He wandered sadly for hour and hours until the sun began to set and darkness crept in over the sky. He did not know which way he was going and he did not care, but then he heard a sound to which he was drawn.
It was Wolf.
He was on the top of a hill sitting upright and howling mournfully at the Moon. Coyote was struck by how beautiful the sound of Wolf’s voice was.
“That’s it!”, he thought. “That is a voice I could be proud of. I will howl like wolf.”
He stalked up slowly next to wolf, mirrored his posture, threw back his head and…..
He yipped.
He was so embarrassed. He thought that he could howl like Wolf but all that had come out was a little yip. At that moment he thought he would die of shame.
But Wolf looked at him knowingly and said, “You are not a wolf. You cannot howl like I do.”
“I know”, said Coyote, “but I am looking for my voice. I cannot return to the village until I find it and when I heard yours, well, I had just hoped…”. His voice trailed off into the darkness of the night.
Wolf thought about this for a moment.
“Perhaps you should speak to the Moon”, he said after some time. “She is very wise and may be able to guide you in this. With that he stalked away into the night, leaving Coyote alone on the hill and looking up at the full Moon.
Silence followed.
And lasted long into the night.
Finally, The Moon spoke.
“What is it that you are looking for little one?”, she asked gently.
Coyote stammered, '“I was sent by the village elders to find my voice. I have traveled far and wide in search but have not found it. I tried to swim with Salmon and build with Beaver. I tried to mark the forest with Bear and sing with Wolf, but I still cannot find my voice.” He lowered his head in defeat.
The Moon smiled down upon him. “Tell me the story, Coyote.”
He recounted his story from beginning to end to The Moon’s absolute delight. When he was finished, they were both smiling and laughing like old friends.
“Ah, and there it is”, sighed The Moon.
Coyote looked up.
“Your voice”, she said. When he did not understand she went further, “You are not a swimmer like Salmon and you are not a builder like Beaver. You do not make borders like Bear and you cannot sing like Wolf. You are Coyote. You travel far and wide collecting stories to be told around the campfire. From this time to the end of all things, you will tell your stories, bringing joy and laughter to those who will hear them.”
And that is why when you tell a story around a campfire, you can sometimes hear Coyote laughing in the distance, knowing that the story you told was originally one of his.
Note from the Author:
This month was a difficult one. I’ve always thought the throat chakra to be a house of creativity and I feel as if I’ve been off my creative game for quite some time now. But we don’t do any of these practices because they are easy. We do them to create change. So maybe this challenge of the throat chakra will crack open my voice and lead me to the next step in my creative endeavors.
The most terrifying thing in life to a writer is a blank page. But it’s also beautiful. You can go in literally any direction that you want with it. Thanks for coming along this roller coaster with me.
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(She/Her)
The gal behind Held In The Heart. The Community Journal is a space for those who feel deeply to express freely. We explore all sorts of things here, from the real & raw healing stories & creative writing, to the funny & fleeting moments of everyday human life. I warmly welcome you and invite you to explore with us!