Blog: Listening in rather than out
I have this quiet inner voice I’ve learnt to pay close attention to. There’s generally nothing exciting about it. It says unremarkable things like ‘go for a walk’ or ‘go to bed’. I’ve tried ignoring it, but (sometimes to my intense irritation) it’s always right.
Sometimes I want to give someone a ‘piece of my mind’ and the quiet voice says ‘walk away’. Things tend to go better when I do. Sometimes I want to emotionally push back against my six year old son, but the calm voice says ‘relax’.
And so generally, we cruise together..
After many years of totally ignoring the quiet voice, then having an off-on relationship with it, I’ve come to understand it’s always right.
These days, you could say, I am a slave to the quiet voice.
‘How to listen to your quiet voice’ would have made a useful subject during my early schools years. Though who knows if I could have paid attention …
The quiet voice reminds me of the calm, reasonable voices of the elders of my childhood who gave me equally boring advice, such as ‘have an early night’ and ‘you should eat something other than jellybeans’ during my deeply grumpy moments when I was convinced, that all the injustices of the world were very clearly someone else’s fault.
Sometimes the quiet voice makes jokes at my expense. Sometimes I laugh at the jokes, sometimes.
The quiet voice would have a sensible name such as Brian. Or Henry. Or … Anne.
I would like to put in a good word for your quiet inner voice, and introduce it to mine. If they were to get together for a drink, I imagine they’d have a few laughs at our expense, before leaning into each other and conspiring ways to bring even more good and wondrous experiences to us. That’s the kind of great inner voices Brian, Henry or … Anne are.
My inner voice may be quiet and calm. But it sure it persistent.
Probably a good thing.