Dear Voices,
All I hear are the two of you.
You never speak to each other—only to me—clearly referencing each other.
It takes two to tango and there’s only one of me so, why are we always dancing?
All day long, back and forth—do this; no, do that. Think this; no, think that.
I may become certifiably crazy if the two of you don’t shut the fuck up.
I am me, not you or you. But who am I really if I have both of you inside me?
I used to think I could clearly distinguish between the two—my angel and my demon. Sometimes you trick me. It’s as if you’re cooperating in an attempt to make me go insane.
Well I won’t let you have me.
My mind is my own and I will determine what’s allowed in it—once I learn how to do that of course.
In this moment, I heard you say I can’t quiet you.
No matter how softly you speak or lightly you whisper, I always hear you, ego.
I may hear you—but I will never listen. You are not my voice of reason.
Why are you louder, though? You constantly speak up.
Why does my sweet, angelic, reassuring voice stay quiet and let you abuse me?
It aggravates me that the good lets the bad bully me.
Why aren’t you on my side, little voice?
I need an ally—I need a friend in my head.
I wrote those words before I understood my voices—before I truly understood myself. Our voices are a part of us. They are our intuition versus our ego. Our faith versus our fears.
I thought I could silence my ego but I’ve learned I can’t. It’s a part of me that I can control but never completely conquer. The battles inside me serve as reminders that I am always in spiritual warfare. My mind is in the middle of a continual debate between good and evil—I no longer want my voices silenced because they teach me balance.
Years of societal programming—some intentional, some accidental, most inevitable—continually feed our ego. We as human beings are porous, soaking in ideals and truths from our surroundings and storing them deep inside our subconscious as our own personal truths. In order to allow my quiet voice of intuition to guide me, I needed to figure out how to feed it. I knew it was starving.
This is when I learned how to meditate.
Things inside of me started to change. Things around me started to change.
I felt calmer, more in control. I could hear the birds chirp and airplanes fly over my house. I had more control over my body. I felt heroic, as If I could hear, smell and see everything. I became more and more aware.
Mediation made me feel like one with the world around me. I released the idea of a life my voices created in my mind and accepted the possibility of a life much greater. A world I can never fully see but always feel—I realized my faith shaped my reality.
Life feels complicated, yet the truth remains simple. We receive what we perceive.
I used to let my personal perception of truth overshadow my potential for absolute truth. I allowed my mind to control my feelings and my feelings to overwhelm and isolate me. At times, I felt helpless to those nagging, destructive thoughts.
Luckily, my faith has proven its ability to override those fears. My faith whispers to me in silence as I meditate each time. My ego still screams back but I try not to let that interfere with the message I’m meant to hear. I know practice makes perfect.
Recognizing we exist in a conversation between two powerful, opposing forces allows us the opportunity to use our thoughts to achieve our dreams. If we did this collectively as a society we’d get stuff done. It’s time to walk the talk.
Become aware of the dialogue within your mind. Really listening to ourselves will help distinguish between the two voices and let us recognize their role in our lives.
Every thought is an opportunity for change, for happiness, for completion. Each breath we take is a chance to embrace the good and let go of the bad.
Let’s stop seeking outside truth & start listening to what our soul whispers in silence.
My spiritual journey often leaves me feeling misunderstood, but now I know that’s only my ego’s projections. I often wished for a friend to share this personal journey with, thinking I was taking it alone.
This is when I learned I always had a friend in my head.
It was just a matter of quieting the world around me enough to hear them clearly.
“If you see me speak without words
Know that I am speaking of the wind
And if you see my words like wind
Know that soft tongues cut through stone
And if you see my tongue like stone
Know its wisdom lies in silence
And if you see my wisdom in silence
Then with you I will always be.” ~ Jewel, The Circle Song
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Apprentice Editor: Melissa Horton/ Editor: Catherine Monkman
Photo: Meg Wills, Flickr
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