Losing my voice

To my own surprise, I’ve gone quiet in more ways than one over the past couple of weeks.  Was thinking writing this would be an almost daily occurrence (and it still may be), but we had limited internet in both Maui and Yosemite, so sitting down to blog became fiddly instead of fun.  Stranger still, I’ve lost my voice for the first time in years, and I had to cancel a number of client sessions and a live radio show.

I’ve made my life (and make my living) by communicating, so taking away my “virtual voice” (i.e. the internet) and my actual voice has been a strange experience. Fortunately, the fear (and I have found this oddly frightening) has been mitigated by my understanding of the nature of Thought.  Since I know I’m feeling my thinking in the moment (in this case thoughts like “What if my voice doesn’t come back by the time I get to London? What if it never comes back?  What if it’s a sign that I’m not supposed to launch this revolutionary new understanding into the world?”), I can ride the feeling out without attempting to do anything about it.  Sure enough, within a few minutes (or a couple of hours last Thursday morning!), the feeling passes as new thoughts come in and my perspective once again expands to remind me of all the beauty and good I have in my life.

I fly off this evening, and have no idea if I’ll be able to fulfill my obligations while I’m away, which include a number of radio and video interviews, client sessions, and four live talks.  But I’m doing what I know to do, what my friend Garret Kramer calls “staying in the game”.  In this case, that just means writing this post, going to the doctor, and getting on a plane this evening.  When I know what else to do, I’ll do it.  Until then, I’m grateful to be alive, to have a great family, and to have a (mostly) healthy body to be grateful (and sometimes scared) inside of…

4 Responses to “Losing my voice”

  1. Elizabeth Darcy Jones April 1, 2013 at 9:58 am

    We speak as friends through the internet. But do not meet.
    I hear your voice, recorded, perhaps more often live –
    the killer of the radio show we need to survive!
    silence adds, and, ah! it makes life sweet…

    On Monday at St James’s you’ll be there!
    and life itself – all ‘seven sense’ juicy – sings its song
    and this is what you’re teaching! Do you dare
    to stand, still, silent, ‘naked’ neither right nor wrong?

    Poetry assists to spell out what I mean
    we do not come for content
    we come to be ‘PEARL’: Present Engaged And Really Listening –
    for Life unfiltered by mere words or screen.

    Dear Michael, I hope this resonates! We do not know each other but if the mind would like the reassurance of knowing you have a reader to read out whatever seems fun to share it would be an honor to do so… Just be in touch.

    Looking forward to hearing or not hearing you!!!

  2. Elizabeth Darcy Jones April 1, 2013 at 10:04 am

    Oops! How do we insert ‘silence’ in between ‘need’ and ‘to’ in the first verse Is there a real moderator who can come to our aid?

    How did that happen?! In case not, here’s the first verse – as it ought to read…

    We speak as friends through the internet. But do not meet.
    I hear your voice, recorded, perhaps more often live –
    the killer of the radio show we need silence to survive!
    silence adds, and, ah! it makes life sweet…

    Don’t you just love the peculiarities of the mind (Hmm…)?

  3. Michael Neill April 1, 2013 at 6:54 pm

    Thanks, Elizabeth – voice is slowly recovering, but should be in fine fettle for Monday night. (And wondered how I’ve earned the moniker “the killer of the radio show”…? :-)

  4. Elizabeth Darcy Jones April 7, 2013 at 8:57 am

    Oh dear, not you!! My quest for clarity has gone totally awry – I meant the silence, which every radio producer dreads… Not your liquid voice at all.

    The silver lining? When we meet tomorrow I shall say nothing and you’ll know exactly who I am!

    And Thank You for inserting the wayward ‘to’. If you wish to remove the poem please feel free – I’d much prefer only the great work to be left online. Fortunately you picked up the underlying sentiment – compassion. Alternatively, since this has turned into a mini-online editing adventure – this reads a whole lot better:

    ‘silence kills the radio show but helps us thrive
    and makes life sweet…’

    best poetic

    Liz

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