In the dark wash of the sea I hear a voice again. An old familiar. A reasonable voice. Calm and clear. But, I know (I remember, in the bones of my bones), full of damage and fear. A voice that asks, whispers, “How can this be? Think about it. Think, my friend. There must be something wrong. Look, listen. Be careful, dear one, tread light. The way is treacherous and pitted with pain. Are you prepared? Are you strong? Why risk so much for so little. Why travel such a road? Why, why why?”
And I rock in the waves, the voice a current beneath, and I rock. And wonder. And weep that the voice is not banished. And sing to myself a lullaby. Soothing and soft in the dark. And hum with the song of the sea. That siren song of wash and ebb. Of flow and swallow. And of moon and mist strung stars. And I pay attention to the low shush of the water and hope it will drown more this time. Drown the voice and ceaseless whispering. Drown the doubt and the shame and ache of it all. And perhaps, when the tide is gone, I’ll be, just me, on the shore again.
screw the voice. what does it know? it’s just a disembodied change in air pressure which creates auditory (or imaginary auditory) response in the brain. the voice isn’t alive… it’s just pissed off because you are.
oh, and heh, heh, heh… she said “swallow”.
I’m with DF…hell with the voice. The potentials are too great to ignore. And you’ll never be alone really. We have your back.
As long as the Voice isn’t encouraging you to raise an army to defeat the English…
@ Daisy > “disembodied change in air pressure” Haha. I like that. Ag. The voice is back in it’s box. Damn voices.
@ Gnu > Aw, darlin’! Thank you. And ja. I reckon there is good stuff ahead. The voices be damned.
@ Kyk > ooooooh flower of Scotland, when will we see yer likes again…..
oh wait - if the voice tells you to raise an army to defeat the British, bring it back out! That could be kinda fun… at least to watch!
@ Dais > sure sure, but where the hell does one find an army these days? Such a pity I don’t have zombie skills…an army of the dead would be seriously useful. And the voice would have people to talk to.
It’s OK to listen to the little voices in your head at times. It’s when you start arguing with them that you need to get worried
…or when you start losing those arguments…
Hee hee
@ P & Gnu > Those are bad things? *eep*
Line your hats with tin foil. Never go out without one. Apparently this quitens the voices down a bit. Not sure why. I’m sure I read somewhere that this blocks their evil gamma ray voices in your head transmissions. Or is that aliens? Er. Either way, no harm in trying. You might set a new trend in fashion
@ P > And since I seem to fail quite dismally with tin foil in its normal usage, it might give me more space in my drawers. Oooh eeer. That came out wrong.
In your drawers? Mwahahahaha! That should confuse anyohe, aliens included
When you write like this there is a deep, innate wisdom in your words. “The bones of my bones”. In the indigenous traditions, certainly the Mayan tradition and the African traditions there is the thought that the soul or wisdom residues are kept within our bones. And the bottom of the ocean, the dark wash of the ocean, apparently the easter tradition would have us know that there in the stillness is where all our wisdom lives in silence. Where our godliness speaks to us.
Tender and sublimely beautiful Dolce.
@ P > We *must* confuse the aliens!
@ Mands > Thank you. Thank you for reading with more than your eyes. You know how much I value your thoughts.
I know that voice all too well, and it’s done nothing but allow me to swallow myself into a deep and fathomless pit of Slump.
It seems like you know it, and it seems like its reasonable, but it’s talking shit and you have to summon up that final breath of clear air and break the surface long enough to get some oxygen back to your head. It ain’t easy, but you just have to do it.
Poor voice. It is weaker than you. It also wants to protect you. It just doesn’t know the right way.
Also, it can’t be drowned.
Tell it you’re protecting yourself. Tell it you’re travelling the road you’re called to. Invite it to walk with you and play in the damp seaside sand and keep the biting, aching insects from your skin.
And know that, even with the voice beside you, it is already just you on the shore.
@ Egadfly > HELLLLLLLOOOOOOOO possum. How delicious that you are here, in the blogospherium. Yay. And do you know what? This reminds me of when you used to whisper survival into my half formed mind, when I was just a small person. And you saved me, you did. And you helped me dream of bigger, brighter, more outrageous things. Thank you again, for being another voice. One of my favourites.