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There is a voice

There is a voice. At times I ignore it, especially when it’s speaking softly from a dark corner. Or when the world around us is much louder than it is. It’s sad that the world is almost always too loud, almost always overwhelming that voice. But, even when I think I forget, I somehow know it is there. And it never shuts up.

Don’t worry, this isn’t a religious experience, but I used to think it was. Maybe it was, in a purple pixie wisp sort of way.

It tells me what to do, or what not to do. I sometimes listen. It pushes and prods and pokes at me until I give in. Until I do. Inaction is an enemy of the creative. It eats away and digests us from the inside. A friend often asks, “Where is the hunger?” That hunger is the undeniable pull to take action, to do, and to stop planning and dreaming, thinking and talking about what if. Where is the hunger to just go and do… something? Anything?

There is a voice. And when I don’t ignore it, when I do give in, it guides me to wonderful places. It tells me bizarre little stories about difficult situations or dark and scary slices of time. It speaks in code, sometimes so fast that the imagery it shares is lost in a blur of regurgitated confusion, disturbed imagination and surreal sounds. If creativity had a language of its own, it’d be soul-food Latin twisted together with a Sumerian dialect so long forgotten that it sounds alien. Or at least gnomish.

I’d like to tell you that the voice is real, that it’s a strong male voice guiding me toward some quest-worthy goal or a soothing female voice talking me down from a danger so high that I gasp for air. I’d like to tell you that I’m not a little crazy or that I start to worry when the voice stops talking. I can’t, though. Your voice is your own. You have to give it action and no one can do that for you. And if I let you hear the sound of mine, she (he) might decide to talk to someone else.

There is a voice. Today I stopped dreaming and took action. I listened. I did. And I didn’t worry. All I can share is that you have to decide when it’s time to stop dreaming and start believing. And start listening to that voice of hunger.

(You can even give your voice a name. I’d tell you mine, but it is decidedly for the best that it remains a secret. Otherwise, the purple pixie wisps might get a little angry. And that’s a sight for sure.)

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  1. June 19th, 2011 at 19:00 | #1

    The voice inside my head is a small, timid one. She (for I know mine is most decidedly female) loves purple but is not too crazy about Pixies. I, and she by association, made the acquaintance of some remarkable people, and their inner voices–also by association, and I have a feeling, not unlike a combination of unease and a giddy sort of joy, that one, or more, of those people slipped my scared little voice a bit of creative steroids.

    She is growing stronger. Some days when she has tired of the world being louder than her, she screams. I have no choice but to comply when she tells me to write, to draw, to knit, or whatever her whim of the moment is. As she grows stronger I am learning that she is a force to be reckoned with. I her humble servant.

    It is my belief that a voice lies within each of us; some making their presence known from the moment of conception, others dormant or quietly biding their time. Everyone finding, hearing, and listening to that voice of theirs that says, “Go, create this” is my heartfelt wish for all of humanity. For, if everyone were busy creating something new to share with the rest of the world, they would all have a lot less time to destroy that which has already been created.

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