"Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, 'I will try again tomorrow.'"
I've been thinking a lot about voices.
I'm not talking about the voices I hear as a writer, the cure for which is a simple pen and paper. I'm talking about the voices that echo though our minds as we go about our business ... the voices that tell us who they think we are, what we can do, where we can go and how we should live.
The voices we choose to replay while we work, make dinner and fold laundry hold tremendous power over us. I'm utterly convinced that there is a direct correlation between the voices we listen to and the quality of our lives.
If that's true, I wonder why we cling to the negative voices and dismiss the positive ones when it should be the other way around.
Most of us can recall the voices of our childhood that held us captive and kept us from trying. Even as adults, a simple word can send us back to the places we'd just as soon like to forget: the high school gym ... the English classroom ... the family dinner table.
Too many have allowed the careless words of those we trusted to negatively shape us, keeping us from becoming the people we are meant to become.
I see that kind of influence in my students at
where I teach public speaking. Most students find delivering speeches a scary proposition. (In fact, public speaking is the number one fear of Americans. Fear of death? Number two.) It's even more terrifying for students who can't help but haul their echoing baggage to class.
Even so, my students never cease to amaze me. While they may not all possess the natural ability to communicate, I have never met a student who didn't have a special gift that simply needed to be revealed to them.
One student, for instance, has a cool, raspy voice that spellbinds the audience every time she speaks. Another is so dynamic that we sit on the edge of our seats whenever he walks to the front of the room. And then there's the woman who possesses a firm gentleness reminiscent of Maya Angelou. Her voice is so quiet that we hold our breaths to hear her, but she captivates us every time she utters a word.
My students' voices are different in composition; the stories they tell, uniquely compelling. As their teacher, I try to peel back their layers of self doubt and teach them to silence the negative voices so they can get to the place where they shine.
Sometimes they get there, sometimes they don't. It all depends on which voice they're trusting: mine, which articulates their gifts and light, or someone else's, which insists they will never be good enough.
I understand their dilemma. As a writer, I need to listen to both the voices in my head and the voices of readers. Much of the time, that can be a good thing, but the internet makes it possible for the worst voices to express themselves without taking responsibility for their words.
Take, for example, the guy who offered me this anonymous tip: "Give up the writing gig Eileen,it [sic] ain't working. You stink."
How nice.
Perhaps it's time for each of us to take a mental inventory of the voices that comprise the soundtrack of our daily lives and decide which to keep and which to finally ignore. It's spring, after all. No doubt our souls could use a little spring cleaning in addition to our closets.
While we're at it, we would do well to remember the verse that reads, "whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable – if anything is excellent or praiseworthy – think about such things."
No doubt, that's a voice worth believing and a message worth replaying again and again and again.
Eileen Button is a weekly columnist for The Flint Journal and the author of The Waiting Place. Reach her by email, buttonhouse@juno.com or www.eileenbutton.com.