There is much information about trusting our intuition, our little voice. I have heard stories of people’s experiences of the feelings they’ve had, or even voices they’ve heard that helped them make a choice or a decision that changed the course of their lives.
These stories are intriguing and inspirational at the same time. And feeling inspired, I thought how lucky or blessed some people are to have this guidance. Another thought I had was how do I know if it’s intuition, or if it’s my mind’s random thoughts?
Moving forward, and a few years of practicing listening to my little voice, I can say that my little voice has come clear. It’s quiet yet persistent, and it is up to me to be open to the possibility that this little voice is guiding me.
I shared a story the other day when Glenn and I were facilitating a talking circle for our Moving Beyond … series. We were talking about listening to the quiet voice, and we asked everyone to share a story of a time when they heard their little voice and whether they acknowledged or ignored it.
On my 40th birthday, I decided to purchase a brand new bicycle—my first ever. I had a friend who owned a bike store who offered to fit a bike to my height so that it would be just right for me. I was so excited with my beautiful new purple mountain bike, and the perfect purple helmet.
I brought the bike home and the next day I took it for a ride by the beach. I was living in Florida at the time. It was a beautiful sunny day and I felt so free riding in the wind. When I got home I took off my helmet, hung it on my bike, and in the house I went. For the next few weeks I rode my bike often and would leave it on the front porch of our nice house, in a nice and safe neighborhood.
After about a month of riding my bike I started thinking, “I should bring my bike in.” “Later” I would say to myself. Another day would go by and the words, “I should bring my bike in,” and I thought, “Nah, it’s fine on the porch, we live in such a nice family neighborhood, no one will take my bike.” These words kept coming to mind more and more often and I would look out the window and think, “It’s still there, no one will take it.” Then one day the thought came, “I should check on my bike.” I looked out the window and my bike and helmet were gone! I couldn’t believe my eyes.
My little voice was persistent and loud, and yet still I didn’t listen. This was a clear message of the importance of listening to my little voice.
As I finished telling this story, a participant asked for the talking stick and shared how she has been experiencing the same thing with her bikes. She couldn’t believe my story was her story too. The difference was that her bikes were still on her porch and her little voice was screaming, as she heard it through my story. The next day she sent a picture of her bikes, safe and sound inside her home, and thanked me for sharing my story.
Listening, acknowledging, and trusting my little voice has been, and continues to be, a process. It is a great gift and a blessing to hear the quiet small voice in spite of the loud voices of the world around me.
Do you have stories about the times when your little voice spoke to you? Did you listen?
