The voice in my head

There is that voice which is there all time in my head.  He has been there ever since I can remember.  He was the one who told me back in the fall of 1953 when I was almost 4 years old to ride my tricycle down the front steps on my house.  A busted forehead and several stitches later the voice told me we would never, ever do that again.

He sings constantly to me, in any style.  I can have a country song by Johnny Cash followed by Imagine Dragons singing “Demons” At times he scares me with my person demons, but at other times he soothes me with sweet poetry.  He will be with me until my last breath.

I have read a lot about this… “Inner voice” our internal narrator, our personal monologue which I think….at least from conversations which I have had with others… I think we all have going on constantly in our head.  I know all about my guy.  I know what to expect from him most of the time.  He comes up with some weird things, some good things, and some thoughts which are verbalized which I would never consciously say to another human being.  He says some very rude and vulgar things.  He also comes up with some tender and moving soliloquies.  I hear him just as if he were another person speaking to me.  It is never like an invisible or hidden voice, but always speaking directly to me just as another person would.  I don’t know how other people hear their inner selves, I really do not know if everyone even has an internal voice.

I’ve heard some people say that our internal voice comes from the way our parents and those around us speak to us as babies and early toddlers.  I’m not so sure I accept that theory.  I just cannot hear my parents or any other relatives I knew as a baby or child in my monologue.  I also can’t accept that people like John Wayne Gacy , or Jeffrey Dahmer had normal inner voices which came from their early associations.  I would have really, truly have hated to be inside their head, listening to what was being said.  I think their voice must have been riddled with hallucinations, or nightmares.

On the opposite end of the spectrum I would have loved to have heard some of what Leonardo da Vinci, or Albert Einstein had to say to themselves…maybe.  I can imagine their inner voices having a sort of discourse, bouncing ideas off of their own walls in order to make discoveries of new things.  One cannot imagine what might be going on in the mind of the genius.

Jiminy Cricket would have called our inner voice our “consequence” In Zen, they would think of it as “Nen nen ju shin ki” which means something like “Thought following thought.”  I personally think of it as my heart.

Whenever my inner voice speaks to me of any deep emotions it always comes from the heart.  I have never had a headache from something bad happening, but always have the feeling come welling up from the center of my chest.  My tears start in my heart.

When my voice tells me to be happy, I have never had my head spin.  My joy starts in my heart, and radiates out into the rest of my body.

My inner voice comes from my heart and tells me the things no one else would or could tell me.  I’d sure hate to lose him because he’s my oldest and closest companion.

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A Trip Back in Time to 1963

Think about how much all the things we had Bach in 1963 would be worth if we had them now. I wish my Mom hadn’t thrown my comic book and baseball card collection away!

thegraymaniac's avatarWriting for Sanity's Sake

You can’t beat the rain for therapy sometimes.  It’s been one of the most humid late spring days I can ever remember down here in Southland.  Mr. “Heat Mister” really took over this year.  But…today it rained.  Not a Thunderstorm or one of those violent lashes off of some Hurricane going up the cost.  No sir, not this one.  This is one of those that just gently moved in, and started coming down almost unnoticed.  It’s a beautiful thing.

Most people don’t want to see rain anytime, but this time of the year I will take these “Season Changers” that come out of the North and move through and clean out the air, so that tomorrow when we walk outside it will be like breathing pure Oxygen.  The temperature is going to be in the 70’s and there will be a small little tailing breeze coming from the Northwest, just…

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A Coin of Love….

I’m recalibrating and reconstituting my blog site to fit my area of expertise. I hope my future blogs and posts will be of interest to people with a passion for days gone by….

thegraymaniac's avatarWriting for Sanity's Sake

Back on November 9th in 1874, a baby was born.  The only other thing which I know about her was that her Grandfather loved her.  I know this because of a Canadian 25 cent piece which I bought a long time back from a buyer friend of mine who goes up to New England occasionally and brings things back to sell.  I bought the coin from him.

Back in the old days, coins were used a lot of times to transform into keepsakes.  They were used for birthdays, anniversaries, sweethearts, and other occasion’s people wished to commemorate.  They were made from silver, and things being what they were back then, they were objects of value.

This particular coin must have been cherished by its original owner because it is in almost perfect condition.  It still has the original little yellow ribbon which must have been on it the day it…

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