That Little Voice
We all have that little voice.
I’m not different, though close friends sometimes remind me to listen to mine. If they only knew what it was telling me they’d probably change their tune.
Some people call it women’s intuition, but of course, men have it too. Some call it a conscience, but really it’s more than just a moral compass. It’s a life compass.
The little voice is that guide we bury deep inside that tells us secrets. It somehow already has the answers. It seems like, for most people, that voice tells them how to be great. If they follow that voice, they are following their spirit, or maybe even the voice of God.
My voice is different though.
I think a lot of people have a hard time with faith, but their little voice tells them that this world is more than it seems – that we were not born just to die. If they listen to that little voice inside, they can become a good person and follow the path to heaven.
My voice is not so comforting.
Faith for me has always been an easy thing. I love people of faith, because their spirits can flow in happiness. They know how to tap into that space, that for however brief it may be, allows everything to make sense. I can tap into that space as well. Everything in the world can make perfect sense in a spiritual way.
But then, that little voice always wants to share a little secret with me.
My little voice tells me that it is all an illusion. But not in the Hindu, the world is not what it seems, we are all one, kind of way. My little voice tells me that everything is actually only what it seems. We are here for a brief time. We create a certain amount of destruction while we’re here. And then, we’re gone.
And for my life, this knowledge is both empowering and disheartening. How can I just stop being? When I have a brain that has the ability to dream up whole worlds within it, how can it just stop functioning? But eventually everything stops.
When I gave birth to my own baby girl, I developed a love like no other. For the first time I understood what unconditional love was. I thought I knew before, but it took becoming a parent to understand a love that you don’t have a choice in. It is all consuming, whether you want it or not. This love is divine. This love, to me, is God.
But the birth of my girl also laid bare the fact that we are insanely fragile creatures that are born, live, and are easily destroyed. We laugh, we cry, we love, and we die.
When everything stops eventually, it is hard not to laugh at the politicians and the philosophers, all taking themselves so seriously. Imagine baboons holding elections, and indeed they have their own power structure, but it is hard to take it as more than just the alpha male trying to take the spot they feel they deserve.
I am not an atheist. How can anyone be more than an agnostic? I guess their little voice allows them to be more. But mine won’t. Mine tells me that this life is precious because it won’t last forever. So, I have to be good for good’s sake alone. Because, why treat others, who are all fading to black, badly? We don’t have time for that.
I’m about family first. The rest takes time.
Written for the On Living and Dying series. If you’d like to be a part of the challenge, find more info here: 365 Days On Living and Dying. But first leave a comment and let Sarah know how you feel about what she said.
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