I hear voices. I hear one most often, especially when I’m driving and I’m not alone. For instance, one day I pulled into a left turn lane, when suddenly a ‘voice’ said, “Mr. Blinky is our friend.” A few blocks later, as I approached an intersection where a pedestrian was going to cross, the same voice floated back into my consciousness with, “Watch that person about to cross the street.” I knew that it wasn’t from a back seat driver, because no one was in the back seat. Nevertheless, within mere minutes the voice was back, this time saying, “Tailgating isn’t going to get you there any faster.” Of course, my first reaction was to add a few colourful choice comments of my own, but that consistently ends up with me having a really bad day (and night).
I do my best to ignore the voice, and it does its best to make darn sure that I don’t. I considered telling my doctor about it, but decided against it. It’s one thing to be nuts, it’s a whole other thing to leave a paper trail. I hear that voice at home too, like when I reach for the remote control. It pierces my peace of mind with thoughts like, “What do you think you’re doing?” and “Excuse me?” I thought at first it was my conscience talking to me, because it would chime in when I grabbed a bag of chips, a stack of toast or plate of cookies. But, I even hear it in the bathroom, reminding me to wash my hands, flush and put the seat down. In fact, I hear it so often, that now I even hear it when I don’t hear it. It’s like it’s burned into my brain.
The day that I hear it the most often, is on ‘delivery day’, that day of the week when The Northern Star gets distributed. I usually hear it first before I ever leave the house, saying something like, “Now, we’re going to take our time and just enjoy the day.” This triggers another voice (an ‘inside’ voice) that screams things that are not appropriate for print. You see, I generally enjoy being around people as much as sitting nude on a stirred up ant pile, or boxing with a wasp nest. I reckon that if the Creator had wanted me to have patience, I’d have been a doctor. Instead, my pedal got welded to the metal, and I took off long before my brain could get loaded.
I’ve come to suspect, that with a great deal of wisdom and a warped sense of humour, the Great Spirit has sent me its personal advisor to assist and guide me. It is the ‘voice’ that I hear when a decision must be made, a corner turned or a toilet flushed. It reminds me to look straight ahead when walking in the mall, not to cuss when the kids and grandkids are around (actually, all the time) and provides continual advice about safe driving practices. As part of its persistent pestering, it also advises me on matters of health, wealth, social consciousness and civility. I’ve learned that resistance to the voice is futile, and that revolt leads to emotional pain. The voice is there to remind me that I have choices to make in life, and to tell me exactly what they are. I ain’t real sure why I was ‘blessed’ with the voice, or why the heck it needs to sound like fingernails going down chalkboards, but it’s usually right, and I’ve found that life’s a heap happier when I heed its advice.