Mindful Living: Abandoning the Rational Mind

My dad was a really analytical guy. When he wanted to buy a new radio, he'd look in Consumer Reports and buy whatever was at the top of the list. On the other hand, my mother was more right brained, and bought the radio that turned her on. I guess they both got what they needed, both from their electronics and each other. They were pretty consistent in their advice giving too. When I was in a sales job I hated, dad told me all the rational reasons to stay, and mom told me to quit.

That linear side of my upbringing has always been the most noticeable. I'm compulsively organized; I write everything down; my radio has all the channels pre-set. The gift of these apparently minor personality traits is that I have total confidence in my ability to achieve any goal. Yet, even as an adult, I get into these situations where no amount of rational argument holds up against a burning instinct. Recently I got into another job I hated. I mean HATED. Since most of my friends are rational sorts like me; they quickly pointed out all the reasons I should stay in the job. More money; more opportunity; more safety. But my friend Lorraine told me to run like hell away from that job. The advice of my rational friends was completely true and yet, it was also completely meaningless when up against the voice of spirit. I chose the latter, and quit.

I'll never know if I did the "right" thing, but maybe the right thing isn't about money or opportunity or safety. Maybe it's about trusting in God's voice, the still small voice within.

The really difficult thing about faith is that you never have concrete evidence that you made the right decision. After all, who knows what would have happened if I'd stayed? Surely the life I’m living is the way life should be, since this is the way it is, the way it turned out. I know that I am exactly where God wants me to be at this minute, even though I often don't like it one bit. There is a general direction to my life, so that if I were to miss the boat the first time, another boat would pull up to the dock. I may not ever be a rockin' blues singer in a smoky nightclub, but my spirit has always found a way to hum.

I've been looking for one of those old radio sets, where you have to turn the knob way over and over past static and more static to find the soft sad voice of Lena Horne. It's way at the end of the dial, past all the opinions and comments and demands, and so faint that maybe you think it's just the heat of imagination at the end of a long hot summer evening. Even so, I'm sure that voice is there; it's just that sometimes, my radio needs a little tuning.

Copyright February, 1999