Connection, Intention, and Reflection - Part I
In terms of sheer verbosity, my inner monologue could give Shakespeare a run for his money.
I was chopping veggies for dinner last night, when it suddenly occurred to me that I had filled every available moment of my day with thoughts, most of them a running critical commentary, giving my actions two thumbs down. My dad called his constant commentator “Duck Tape Man” and I adopted the name for my own inner critic. The absurdity of the name feels like an accurate nod to the quality of his contributions.
I have noticed that every once in a while Duck Tape Man shuts up, and another voice comes through; a voice that says “yes” to scary but exciting things, that recognizes an opportunity to create, connect, or contribute. It is such a sharp contrast to my inner critic, it makes me wonder whether it’s really coming from me at all.
There’s something there beneath Duck Tape Man, beneath the ego, the inner critic, and it seems to have our best interest at heart.
Maybe it’s the subconscious mind.
Maybe it’s the Self.
Maybe it’s our creative voice.
Maybe it’s the Muse.
Maybe there are angels.
When I was a kid, my grandmother gave me a beautiful little jeweled guardian angel pin. Over the years there have been times I have believed there were angels -some mysterious force looking out for me- and at times I have believed I’m all my own. I can’t tell you my outcomes were better when I believed the angels were with me (there’s no way to know). But I can see my darkest, loneliest days were when I believed I was alone. Maybe there are angels. I don’t know. But I still keep that angel pin close by.
I believe both my inner critic and the quiet voice underneath are trying to look out for me. The trouble is that Duck Tape Man doesn’t seem to be helpful very often.
The quiet voice is another matter.
When I was seven, the voice said yes to baseball. I got hooked on baseball cards and studying statistics. I dove into the stories the numbers told, and practiced baseball every chance I got, alone and with friends. By age nine I was the best pitcher in my town and two grades ahead in math because of all the time I spent doing statistics. My math skills went on to be a valuable part of my professional career, and to this day both baseball and numbers are a regular source of joy.
When I was ten, that voice said yes to guitar and singing. I played all the time on a child-size guitar my uncle Matt got me from the thrift store for six dollars. I learned a new song every week and played in my first live concert six months later. Thirty years later, music is still one of the most important things in my life.
Maybe there are angels.
The voice said yes and I went out after work with a coworker, thinking at the time, “she must have some work questions for me that she’s not comfortable discussing at the office.” Three hours later, after one of the best conversations of my life, I realized the work questions never came.
We went out again the next week, and the next, just as friends, of course. Duck Tape Man made it clear that it was not practical or realistic for this to be anything more. But that quiet voice told me a different story. The voice told me I was falling in love.
I’m so grateful I listened to that voice. We just celebrated our fourth anniversary.
If you don’t believe there are angels, I get it. In fact, there’s a very rational explanation for all of this, that our subconscious mind has an ability to process far more information, at a far faster rate, than our conscious mind, leading us to have helpful intuitive insights that we perceive as arising from outside of ourselves.
But that is not the point I want to make here.
No, the point I want to make is that, if you reflect back in your life, you will likely find a pattern. Throughout your life, there have been times where that quiet voice got through the incessant chatter of your thoughts and spoke strongly.
And you listened.
Maybe it said yes to something that has been a big positive part of your life. Maybe it said no to something that you are grateful you avoided, let go of, or ended. There’s a good chance that the success rate of these messages has been very high, that the voice has a tendency to steer you in the right direction.
So am I telling you to trust your intuition? Yes. But there’s more. The other half of this equation is easily overlooked.
When we reflect back, we find the moments we’re glad we listened to that quiet voice. But we cannot hope to identify the times we didn’t listen in the first place because our thoughts were too loud to notice what was underneath.
I didn’t notice Duck Tape Man had been going nonstop until I found myself at dinner time, chopping an onion. Maybe it was my eyes watering that pulled me from my endless thoughts. I don’t know. But I know, for all his blathering on, Duck Tape Man sure didn’t seem to be in touch with what was best for me.
I want to create more space for that quiet voice. I’d like to hear it every day, preferably before dinner.
Next week, I’ll write about the best ways I have discovered to create that space.
Reflections & Questions
Take a minute to ask, “when has trusting my intuition, my quiet voice, served me well?”
You can also try reflecting on times when you didn’t trust your intuition and you regretted it later.
If, like me, you come to the conclusion that you’d like to create more space for that quiet voice to come through, ask:
“What are the activities in my life that lead to a quiet mind, allowing me to hear that quiet voice when it emerges?”
Recommended Reading
The War Of Art by Steven Pressfield
Steven does an incredible job of getting us in touch with “The Muse” and illustrating how the universe seems to work with us when we commit to the things that arise from our creative voice.
This book is NOT just for artists. It is relevant for anyone attempting to do something creative or additive in the world, including growing a business, or deepening a skill that we use in service to others.