Today I asked myself: Whom am I listening to?

Every day, I am presented with dozens, if not hundreds, of voices and opinions.

The voices of news anchors, journalists and bloggers.

The voices of book authors and narrators.

The voices of actors and show hosts.

The voices of my teachers.

The voices of my family and friends.

And the voices of my past and future.

All these voices present a pointer to some truth, but the truth itself waits to be realized. It’s not real unless it’s within me.
That’s why I usually don’t get someone’s advice until I personally have an experience that I can reflect upon and realize.

Most of these voices don’t present truth, but they show opinions. Mostly second hand opinions.

But within me, I always had a faint voice. One that’s very hard to hear unless I turn down all other voices, including my own, and sit quietly.

That voice always knows something that I don’t, and it’s been trying to tell me all along.

And this voice has been right every single time.

I experienced the bliss of following that voice when I trusted it without questions,

and the miseries when I let my mind interfere, rationalize, and tried to find a better alternative to that voice.

And sometimes that voice is very loud. Loud enough to save my life from a definite danger.

Like that day I was driving through an intersection and this voice yelled “STOP”. I obeyed, and I found a car running the red light and heading toward my side of the car, missing it by less than an inch and spinning in the middle of the road to a stop.

I remember how loud that voice used to be when I was a child. Loud and clear. It told me at every moment what I needed to do.

Even before I remember understanding a spoken language, that voice communicated without words.

Then I learned how to speak, and how to listen.

And I started listening to everyone, and everyone never stopped speaking.

And that voice retreated in a corner inside me waiting for a moment of silence to be heard again.

Most of these moments came when I am doing something that’s either relaxing, or requiring my full attention.

And I started to understand and respect the mysterious nature of that voice, even when it doesn’t make sense.

And the fact that it communicates beyond knowledge. It communicates truth.

Not universal truth. Not agreeable or rational truth.

My truth.

It mentions places, people, things to do, and things not to do. Then it falls silent, waiting for me to show a bit of faith before it speaks the next truth.

And that leap of faith is all that voice needs to start speaking again.

And I learned that I cannot sit down and wait for it to tell me everything before I start moving.

I need to move. To act. And when I do, I feel it gaining more courage, and more volume to speak a bit louder.

Sometimes I doubt it and think that it may be just my own voice. But I go back and realize that there is no way I could have known the things that voice is telling me.

Listening to that voice makes me feel like a kid again. Connected to mystery rather than just knowledge. Comfortable with the uncertainty of tomorrow, rather than trying to create a plan for it. Knowing that I do have a companion, a mentor, who knows everything and will reveal the truth at the right moment.

When asked “If there is heaven, what would you like to hear God saying when and if you go to there?“, Steven Spielberg replied “Thank you for listening”.

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