For those of you who haven’t purchased Gatekeeper III yet – or, even if you have, and just haven’t made it to this bit yet – I share this nugget from a conversation between Anna and her new friend, Sherry:
“Do you wake up every day and feel in the pit of your soul you’re already behind, and then spend the rest of the day in a mad rush to catch up?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Do you hate free time because you dread the realization that you’ve wasted it?”
“Damn, you’re good.”
Sherry gave a rueful laugh. “Nice to meet you, soul-twin.”
In the usual manner of writers through the ages, I have had no shame in burdening my helpless characters with a veritable smorgasbord of my own failings, quirks, and neuroses. Hence, this chapter was both easy and painful to write.
You see, like Anna, I have always had the “Do More” voice going inside my head. The “Do More” voice is not inherently evil; in fact, it has driven me to accomplish many lovely and worthwhile things. The “Do More” voice only turns nasty when one gives it too much sway – when it begins to have more authority than any other voice. Then, it becomes a true tyrant.
Only now, as a (slowly) recovering “Do More” addict, can I begin to recognize the depth and breadth of the nasty that was gradually usurping complete domination of my inner landscape. What’s more, only recently have I guessed the true identity behind the “Do More” voice – the power behind the throne, so to speak.
The “Do More” voice is the voice of fear.
Fear and I are old, old frenemies – which is rather ridiculous, as I’ve led a delightful life thus far and have no justifiable cause to be as afraid as I am. But, in the quest to cultivate silence that I described in my first post (see Out of Silence), my soul is gradually growing quiet enough to perceive some truths about my hitherto unquestioned way of life. And, like most truths, they’re pretty darn uncomfortable. It’s never fun to realize just how deeply one is motivated by the fear of not being enough, or of messing up, or of not being loved.
I believe these fears are more widespread than we realize. If the noisiness of our world – internally and externally – is not sufficient evidence of the reign of the “Do More” voice, consider how much pride we take in our hectic schedules; the way we wear busyness as a badge of honor; the number of conversations that degenerate rapidly into thinly veiled, passive/aggressive fights for the title of “Most Exhausted”.
I have recently perceived the even more uncomfortable truth that one cannot escape the “Do More” voice simply by changing one’s circumstances. In The Way of the Heart (again, see Out of Silence), Henri Nouwen explains that it is possible to live a busy life while resting in silence and peace internally. The reverse, he goes on, is also true: one can appear to have a quiet life while one’s insides are drowning in clamor.
Now, I do believe that changes in circumstances can help. I have been making giant changes – we’re talking “about face”, seismic shifts here – in my own life recently in order to pursue this writing career and the quiet I have found necessary for it. I quit my full-time job and stepped away from some beloved artistic endeavors in the community. Almost overnight, I went from “dashing out the door at 7:00 AM / stumbling home at 11:00 PM / eating every meal out of tupperware” to “when was the last time I drove a car?” And I have loved it, friends. LOVED. IT. I love being at home and facing a whole weekend with nothing planned and having time to cook and bake (and eat the tasty results off of real plates).
My life is starting to look less like this:
And more like this:
Me beneath the whispering willows.
But, amidst the bliss of learning this new normal, I found myself snapping at my husband the other day because he had the audacity to wash the dishes. “I will do that,” I said, ferociously – and, there it was: the “Do More” voice, alive and well and grasping vainly at the reins it once held on my mind. Despite the gargantuan strides of progress I’ve been making towards peace and freedom, I still saw those dirty dishes as a sign of my failure. Even though they were still dirty because I was trying to snatch a few minutes of writing/editing after a day full of teaching online and prep for the next day’s classes and grocery shopping and cooking – even though my husband and I make it a point to share the household duties – even though I had been up since before dawn and hadn’t really stopped once (note the despicable pride in my voice), the “Do More” voice was adamant: “If you – you personally, on your own steam – don’t do ALL THE THINGS, you are not enough. You have messed up. You are not loved.”
Funny how obviously inane it becomes when you say it out loud (or see it in print).
So, I wrote. My husband washed the dishes. And I gained one more square inch of my soul back from the “Do More” voice.
I share this with all of you, dear readers, because I firmly believe I am not alone. Furthermore, unmasking the “Do More” voice is the first step towards vanquishing it. This is one emperor that looks particularly ridiculous when defrocked.
I wrote this poem in February 2014 – and called it, aptly and prophetically, “The Voice”. May it – and the words preceding it – encourage you to tell the “Do More” voice exactly where it can hang its power-hungry hat.
Beautifully captured and conveyed. I needed to be reminded, too. Love you!!!
I need to silence the voice that says “do ALL the things”… What a glorious reminder!