A little voice inside talks to me all the time. At times it is a cruel critic, other times it delivers terrible prophecies and sometimes it just makes me do mysterious impulsive things, like fall in love, buy a house, start painting agin, or keep capturing these images of items people dispose.
Today it’s a floral bedsheet filled with god-knows-what, left on the side walk.
I know that I’m not the only one trying to deal with this inner voice. Marie Forleo tells a story about her mom, advising her to always listen to the little voice inside, which is sometimes very weak but always, always right, and as you follow this voice, it becomes louder and more clear. Arianna Huffington calls it the obnoxious roommate, Brene Brown named it the Gremlin, the poet Rumi wrote about it “Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love. It will not lead you astray”, and even George Constanza has a little voice inside…
George: “should I call Suzan?”
Kramer: “well what does the little man inside you say? see, you got to listen to the little man.”
George: “my little man doesn’t know.”
Kramer: “the little man knows all…”
George: “my little man is an idiot!!”
what about yours?