"The label you give yourself cannot impact external forces that are not motivated by your own psychology or influenced by a third party's pre-existing consciousness of you. We are all presented with reasons to struggle which come from completely external forces; to pretend that one is not struggling is either arrogance or an admission of defeat. To admit that one is struggling is a sign and a source of strength." - Evan A. Baker

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

The Voice in My Head

Sometimes I'm asked the question, "Why did you move to LA?" "Oh," I reply, "because I love waiting tables, and this is what I want to do." Okay, not really. I'm in LA because a voice told me to go here. Am I crazy?  

There were two instances in my life where I distinctly heard a voice telling me what to do.The first time was my junior year in college. I was going to go on an all expense paid trip to Israel and let me tell you, I was pretty darn excited. We were going to go to the Wailing Wall, the Dead Sea, and I was going to be surrounded by people who would immediately accept me simply because of the way my hair curls. (It's sort of a give away, apparently.) On the day after our deposit was non-refundable, I heard a voice say, "Do not go on this trip." "Psh!," I said, making sure no one was watching me talk to myself, "The plane's chartered. It's totally safe. They do this every year!" "Do not go on this trip." Not louder, not forceful, just there. "But I'll lose my $250!" I'm a Jew. We like to save money. "Do not go on this trip." I frowned in response.

"Do not go on this trip," the voice kept saying the next day. "Aw, come on! Can't we work this out?" "Do not go on this trip." "Fine! Fine. I get it." I called up the lady in charge. "Hi, I'm going to have to take myself off the list. I'm not supposed to go." "What do you mean?" "Um. I don't know. I just know I'm not supposed to go on this trip." "You don't get your deposit back." She was Jewish too. She didn't want me to lose my money either. "I know." "Okay, well, please come back next year."
Two weeks pass. The plane of the trip I'm not supposed to go on leaves tomorrow. My dad calls. "Hey Lira! I just wanted to wish you a good trip!" Whoops. I had forgotten to tell him. "Oh, yeah. I'm not going." "What? Why not?" "I don't know," I said, "Something was telling me not to go." My dad mulls this over. His voice changes tone. He sounds tired. "I didn't want to tell you this, because I didn't want to ruin your trip," I grip the phone tighter, anticipating, "but your mother tried to kill herself. She's in the hospital."

I hang up the phone, pack my bag and drive the 6 hours it takes to get home in only 4 and quarter. Instead of halfway around the world, where I thought I wanted to be, I was right back at home, where I needed to be. I was told not to go on that trip to Israel because my dad needed me to be there for him. Going back to the motherland was actually going back to my father. He spent his wedding anniversary with my mother in the psych ward, a place where they lock people in to protect everybody else who's out.

The second time I heard The Voice was about a year later. My college roommate and I were discussing our post graduation plans. It seemed everyone was moving to New York or back home and we didn't want to do that. "Move to Seattle with me!" She said excitedly, "There's a huge theater scene up there, and it'd be so fun!" "Okay!" I squealed. I had visited before and fell in love with it. And like that, done deal. That's what we were going to do.

And then that calm even voice made itself heard again. "Don't go to Seattle." It said. "Aww, come on!" "Don't go to Seattle." Same tone, not forceful. "Is my mom going to be okay? Can't you just warn me about her instead of being all cryptic?" And its answer changed. "Move to Los Angeles." "Move to LA?" "Move to Los Angeles." I mulled it over. I knew no one going to LA. I'd be by myself in a metropolis I barely knew. About a week later, I sat my roommate down and told her I couldn't go to Seattle with her. "Why not?" she asked, pleading. "I don't know," I sighed, "But something's telling me I'm supposed to be in LA."

I've had a very happy life here so far, and I'm content and peaceful, but I'm pretty sure that the reason I'm supposed to be here hasn't been revealed to me just yet. I like to think I'm still waiting for that. A huge opportunity will come to me, and my career will skyrocket and I'll look back over my life and think, wow. So glad I listened to that voice!

Why are you in LA? What made you move to NYC? Did you hear a voice? We could have fun dissecting this all day and have fun predicting our futures. In the meantime, though, I wish both our families good health and long life.

And I wish us both super strong hearing so we'll always be able to listen to the Voices in our heads.

1 comment:

  1. For those days when you're having trouble hearing your loving voice




Play nice.