When Your Greater Self Rises Up from the Noisy Crowd
They have begun to whisper among themselves, the voices in my head. Go this way, go that way, no this one, no that one, they all say, at once, making things rather confusing. It’s tiresome. I can’t even hear myself think, let alone decide. I feel like a car stranded in the winter snow, pushing then pulling, tires spinning and spitting, trying to rock my way into some kind of traction where the rubber meets the road and I can actually get somewhere.
I want to tell them all to shut the hell up, move out, get a job, make their own way, stop loafing around arguing among themselves, or pay me some damn rent. But I can’t. I keep having this dream in which my greater self rises up from the noisy crowd and yells out exactly what I need to know, what I need to do, where I need to go. She waves a finger in my face and accuses me of my particular life, as if it is the only thing I could have ever done. And for a moment I relax because I know she’s right. All ambiguity disappears and I hear nothing but the hum of my wheels on the open road.
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