We all have voices in our heads. I’ve identified 3 that hang out there the most.
The Hip Hop Artist
The loudest of them all is a potty-mouthed rapper. Irreverent, unyielding, and always talking in slang, the Hip Hop Artist cuts to the chase, cuts to the bone with his words. He’s playful, direct, and intuitive. He says what comes to mind, trusting that his intentions and instincts are all he needs to get the right things out.
A bit more boring and a lot more quiet, The Counselor invites me to talk, to play out scenarios that didn’t happen, are about to happen, or can never happen. The Counselor is loving, nurturing, and proudly dedicated to my survival. The Counselor is not afraid of anything that comes out of my mouth. His voice never raises. He never judges. If I could hug any of my voices, this is the one I would choose, and the one I would refer.
It seems this one has been around the longest, since before I even learned about any particular way of thinking. The Buddha holds the jewels of morality and compassion in his two hands and sometimes it’s the only light I can see. The Buddha always seems to know the way forward, immediately, but he’s never pushy about it. He states his position once and steps back smiling as if co-hosting a show and giving me the stage. He doesn’t care if I follow his advice, and that seems to be where his power lies.
These three are always with me, a motley panel of B-list choreographers, less concerned about the show than the actor. And, somehow, despite all their differences, choosing to take turns at the mic.
It’s that last part that keeps the act from becoming a shit show.
When the voices collide and the words of three wise souls intermingle like shuffled cards, like a radio between stations — that’s the danger, that’s when the magic trick gets foiled.
It’s at this point that my own voice becomes necessary, the star of the show switching places with the hosts to rein them in:
“Alright folks. Easy does it. One at a time. One at a time.”
My voice is the most powerful of all.
I know this because, regardless of the severity of their squabble, the crackle of their static, they always shut up and listen.