When the daily traffic finally subsides inside my head there is no sudden reconnection with my inner self, there is no hearing of the very beat that pulsates through my body. And there is no nothingness. I don’t know what there is but I reach the frontier where my inner self resides peacefully beneath all the noise and still I cannot hear myself.
Instead I am met with fantastical new fears, obsessions, dislikes and disappointments. My imagination plays a slide show of recently collated images of a funny joke, a friendly face, an embrace; a skillful trick to distract me from hearing myself speak.
And what do I hope to hear you wonder? I hope to hear my true dreams; not the false ones that are centered around the gratification of my ego who is forever seeking adoration and victory. True dreams that once upon a time may have looked me in the face in a pure form without my anticipation of failure clouding any attempt to fulfill my destiny. (Everybody has a destiny and the Universe helps anyone who strives towards their own.)
I hope to meet my true feelings. There are times when I don’t even know what I’m feeling after straining my ear to the door behind which my inner voice resides. I don’t know what I truly feel so I make it up. I ascribe something that I think I must be feeling and take this impostor as truth. My true feelings I imagine to be like an intuition; an organic gift which we are all blessed with. One that if we were to listen to carefully could prevent us from veering off our chosen path getting tangled in the forest of lost time and wasted energy. There are some mistakes that we should never regret making and those are the ones where we have learnt something more invaluable than whatever we may have lost.
But who should I blame? I can’t blame my inner self, she has always been there inspiring me, healing me, encouraging me to be brave loving cautious. Even in those moments when we are both aware that I have some free time I reject her company in preference to catching up with my TV shows, a duty I take far more seriously than living my own existence. I get lost in books, the very incarnation of those who could hear their internal voice. And when all avenues are exhausted and I come to the realisation that I am bored I sing and dance in front of the mirror.
Next time I hope to simply sit and have a conversation with myself.