As long as she could remember, the voice was there, quietly, whispering, in her head. The voice was almost imperceptible, and easily ignored, and for a long time, that was exactly what she did. But then, the voice had gotten louder.
It was still possible to ignore, but it wasn’t as easy. Once, all she had to do was turn on a soap opera, or call one of her chatty friends, or, when it was especially loud, go buy some new clothes. But none of these were working anymore. The soap operas now seemed bland; phony actors pretending to be phony people living phony lives. Chatting with her friends had also lost its allure. repeating the same stories she had heard (and retold) for years. Even buying new clothes, her ultimate answer to any problem, was now failing her. She had not even worn half of the clothes she already owned.
She didn’t know what else to do. The only thing left was to do the one thing she had avoided: to listen; to hear what the voice was saying. Which was easier said than done. The voice whispered, and it was hard to make out the words. She had to turn off her TV and shut off her phone. Then she could make out a word or two. But even then, her mind would start thinking about what she was going to make for dinner. Broccoli. She hadn’t had broccoli for a while. And it was supposed to be very healthy. But that meant she had to go to the store, and that meant stopping to get gas. And before she knew it, she had lost track of what the voice had been saying.
She was determined. So in addition to turning off the TV and the phone, she would turn off the lights. Sometimes she would light a candle. That seemed to help her focus. Day by day, month by month, she learned to recognize when her mind was wondering, and bring it back to the voice. Sometimes she only lasted a few seconds before her mind wandered off. On the best days, she might last a minute, or even two. But in those minutes of stillness, she started to recognize patterns. The voice seemed to be repeating the same phrase, not every time, but often. She recognized words like “you” and “have”, but she still couldn’t get the whole phrase. Once she distinctly heard the word “love”.
As she got more comfortable in the stillness, she found that the world of noise and commotion was less and less tolerable. She had gone from craving excitement to abhorring it. Now her favorite moments were when it was just her, in the stillness, with the voice. Those were the times she felt most at peace, most at rest. She still didn’t know what the voice was saying to her. But it was no longer important. It was enough to just be with it.
Spiritual questions:
- What is the voice telling you?
- Can you hear it?
- Where can you find the stillness?
February 18, 2021 - This was written with the Roundhouse Writing Group in Santa Cruz, Guatemala, remotely from Guanajuato, Mexico. The writing prompt for the session was: The voice was almost imperceptible, and easily ignored.
This is one of my Parables for the Spiritual but not Religious Series.
My full blog index is here.
This is one of my Parables for the Spiritual but not Religious Series.
The photograph is by Ruth Hartnup and made available through Flickr and Creative Commons, some rights may be reserved.
My full blog index is here.
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