The hardest thing in the world to take seriously is my own inner voice. I hear it say the strangest things to me sometimes, and if it weren’t for the filter I have constructed over my lifetime to save me from cleaning up unnecessary messes caused by vocal eruptions, I would probably have a lot less friends and a much poorer life. That inner voice that objects about injustice, interrupts when I wrong myself, warns when I’ve over-stepped, rationalizes when I see nothing but red. That inner voice is so hard to believe at times, and that’s probably why it’s so easy to ignore it when I don’t like what I hear.
I often don’t like what I hear. But while I can’t always take it seriously, I listen – constantly, incessantly, because I know one thing – that voice is the truth in me. I am a truth worshipper. I always have been. And it’s always gotten me into trouble. I have been accused of being difficult for the sake of being difficult. I have lost friends for telling the truth. But it’s not to say that I don’t lie. Because I do. We all do. Sometimes the truth can cause more harm than good, and in those instances I use my better judgement – which usually sets my inner voice against me for a few days. Truth. The inner voice gets it. I can rationalize it, but I can’t always grasp it – feel it – live it consciously in the here and now.
Today I acknowledge five months since Dave died. I can never say he passed away. He died. That’s all I hear in my head. And while I say I acknowledge, it’s that I know it’s been five months, however, the absence of Dave is still hard to incorporate into my present thoughts. But I’m always working on it, or, to simplify, I’m continuing to live. Today, though, as I drove home from visiting a friend in LA a thought overwhelmed me. I could see the ocean along the side of Rte. 5, I could see the mountains on the other side. I was in my car, on a highway, driving through southern California and for the first time in months, I knew where I was in the world – physically and mentally. I was present, albeit briefly, but I was present and knew where I was. I have little emotional attachment to my here and now, I get that, but for that minute or two, I felt wonderful. I’ve been waiting five months for that feeling.
My inner voice has been my only saviour these past five months. Most of the time I have no clue what to do, except for listen to that voice. Some of that truth and some of the journey it has set me on have seemed ludicrous and even masochistic, but I have no choice but to trust it now. I have dismantled the life I knew. I have quit my job, given up my home, moved halfway across the continent, left my friends, and thrown myself into a very unpredictable situation all because I’m listening to my inner voice. Now, for whatever reason the truth in me found this path to be the right one for me. What I will attain from it, I’ve no clue. But I do know that if it’s peace and happiness, truth and love, honesty and serenity, that I may never ignore that voice again. If I find complete failure in this path, then I can only imagine it would be the result of me fighting myself every step of the way. After all, I wouldn’t lie to myself, would I?