This week: That Little Voice Inside Your HeadEdited by: W.D.Wilcox
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That Little Voice
Intuition is that little voice inside your head. Whether it is a novel or a shorter piece your writing, there are times you don't use a plot outline, and you don't produce character sketches before beginning your story. You just start to write, guided by that still, small voice of intuition, which is like an open phone line to a higher power, one infinitely more creative than you could ever hope to be.
But this open phone line is different. It doesn't speak to you in full sentences, but instead it speaks in isolated images and dreamflow scenes of action and hieroglyphics of emotion and enigmatic lines of blank verse that you have to translate into comprehensible English, into meaningful fiction.
But still, there is another voice. The one that talks constantly to you. The mind believes that we are made of mind and mind alone, and that without its felt presence, we would cease to be. If the narration were to stop, and the mind was not experiencing itself through the act of thinking, there would be nothing — oblivion. A mind off duty, experience without the thinking, is tantamount to nonexistence. The mind creates the story of an I; it creates an I as an object in our consciousness. In so doing, it maintains both the experience of a self and the experiencer of a self, which it believes are needed to ensure survival.
In relentlessly narrating the story of ourselves (to ourselves), the mind is also attempting to make life, and us, into something solid, knowable, and constant. By creating a main character called me (played by mind) who’s living something called my life, the mind attempts to transform the ephemeral, groundless, ever-changing nature of being into something that can be understood, managed, and, in theory, controlled. It takes what is really one unified process, life, from which we are inseparable, and splits it into two different things — a me and a life. We then become the liver of this thing called life, and in the process, seemingly distinct and real. We literally think our self into existence.
Until Next Time,
I Hear Voices
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