Someone might think the wrong thing.

Okay, so that last post...

I took a stand. That's all. This is me and this is what I believe. It just so happens that, at this point in my career, I am willing to articulate it.

About two years ago, I friend of mine handed me this poem:

Our Greatest Fear

Our greatest fear is not that we are inadequate,

but that we are powerful beyond measure.

It is our light, not our darkness,

that frightens us.

We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant,

gorgeous, handsome, talented and fabulous?

Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God.

Your playing small does not serve the world.

There is nothing enlightened about shrinking

so that other people won't feel insecure around you.

We were born to make manifest the glory of God within us.

It is not just in some; it is in everyone.

And, as we let our own light shine, we consciously give

other people permission to do the same.

As we are liberated from our fear,

our presence automatically liberates others.

Marianne Williamson from her book "A Return to Love"

An e-mail arrived this morning, remarking on the previous post and asking me if I thought it wise to share such thoughts on retention. I think you ought to reconsider, wrote the well-meaning friend. Write something else to explain yourself. Someone might think the wrong thing.

What is the "wrong thing"?

I gave it some thought this morning, between receiving the note and this post, and came to the conclusion that I'd already crossed the Rubicon when I sent the original e-mail on September 21. So that post really wasn't much of a real leap in the grand scheme of things.

Our Greatest Fear fits because, as I write for an audience, it is something I work hard to remember -- and work harder still to instill in my students.

Last night, in individual conferences with my Seton Hill students, I learned that some are silent because they feel they have nothing worth saying. Last night, too, I was reminded of an acidic essay I wrote as a senior: There's Mice on the Hill. It was a rant on how so many women seemed to be so willing to scurry from place to place and never open their mouths.

I think of Baubo, the Belly Goddess, and how she represents the belief that women have a fire (passion) within them. In their bellies, mind you, and far from their heads. For the fire to come out, it has to move upwards and out of our mouths... and the distance from belly to mouth is great, giving time for the words to cool and be tempered out with "logic."

Logic. Good girls don't make waves. Play nice. Don't fight. Make other people comfortable. In essence, be a flight attendant. May I help you?

I tried, readers. I really did try.

I have the diplomacy part down. I know how to use the "right" words and phrases. Those are never the problem. It's swallowing my opinion that keeps burning me.