What do your voices tell you?

One day, in a 1920s cabin next to a train track and Normal Rockwell houses, my friend Al Andrews asked me a question.

Al runs a non-profit called “Porter’s Call” in Franklin, Tennessee. About ten years ago, he recognized that a lot of the clients who came to his counseling practice were musicians. Some of them were in desperate need of a safe place to restore their stories, but they couldn’t afford traditional counseling. Others were selling tens of millions of records and needed a place where they could be themselves, not the idea or image of themselves that everyone sees on the Grammys.

So Al met with the record labels in Nashville and told them, “Look, you’re spending millions of dollars creating these superstar musicians. You’re surrounding them with musical talent, stylists, designers and support staff. But then their lives fall apart in the process. What if you sponsored Porter’s Call, and it became a place where musicians and musician’s families could receive free counseling?”

The labels loved the idea and, for the last decade, Al has been creating a safe haven for artists. It’s an amazing bit of geography in a city that otherwise tends to grind musicians up.

My dad went to college with Al, so he lets me slide around the “Must be a musician on a record label to go to Porter’s Call” rule. One afternoon, Al asked me:

“What do your voices tell you?”

I thought that was kind of a crazy question and considered answering it with counseling jargon I’ve learned in the last few years:

“My parents didn’t hug me enough.”

“I’d like to learn how to do some reflective listening.”

“Can we spend this session unpacking some of my father wounds?”

I decided to answer his question with a question of my own, so I asked Al what he meant.

He got quiet for a few seconds, and probably scratched his beard thoughtfully, because that’s what therapists in movies are always doing.

Al then said, “Well, I’ve asked thousands of people that question over the years, and I’ve learned something, no one has a positive internal voice. No ones internal voice tells them, ‘You’re skinny enough. You sure are pretty. People are going to love that new project you’re working on. It’s going to be a huge success.’ Which makes me curious about what your voices are telling you.”

“Most of us tend to think they’re telling us the truth. We’ve heard them for so long that we trust them. We think they’re looking out for us, that they’ve got our best in mind, that they’re trying to protect us or help us. We think our voices are friends, but they’re not. They’re foes.”

I walked out that afternoon without an answer. I drove home thinking about that question: “What do my voices tell me?”

For weeks, the question haunted me. I didn’t write any emo poetry about it or tattoo it in tribal font on my wrist, but it stayed with me.

In order to shake it, I decided to do something really simple. I decided to write down the messages my voices give me.

I wasn’t going on a vision quest or fighting a she-bear, but I could at least listen for the voices and write them down if I had any.

The first one I heard was pretty obvious.

For years and years, every morning I’ve heard the same question in my head and my heart. One of my voices always asks, “Are you happy enough?” It’s a small question, but the conversation it causes is anything but small.

Voice: Are you happy enough?

Me: I’m pretty happy. I’m not happy all the time. I mean sometimes I’m sad.

Voice: Whoa. You’re not happy all the time? You’re working your dream job right now. You write and speak for a living. You work for Dave Ramsey! If you’re not happy all the time right now, then I don’t know if you’ll ever be happy.

Me: Yikes. That kind of makes me unhappy just thinking about it. What should I do to fix that?

Voice: Maybe there’s something you can do perfectly today that will make you perfectly happy.

Me: Good idea. Which thing?

Voice: Hard to say. Better play it safe and just do everything perfectly today.

Me: I have to be perfect all day? That’s a lot of pressure. That kind of makes me unhappy.

Spin, spin, spin.

Before I know it, my best creativity, best time, and best energy has been commandeered by this voice. And it’s not the only voice. There are many I hear throughout the days and weeks of my journey.

They are the voices of fear and doubt, and they are governed by a simple truth: They only get loud when you do work that matters. Want to stay on the road to average? Want to rock vanilla right to the grave? Okay, fear and doubt will leave you alone.

However, with the very first step you take on the road of awesome, fear and doubt stir from their slumber. The minute the purpose door creaks on its hinges and you push it open, the pointy ears of fear and doubt perk up. Continue on the road to awesome, and fear and doubt begin whispering lies and confusing statements meant to get you back on the average, safe path.

Recognizing I was not the only one who sometimes had a hard time hearing God’s voice amidst all the squabble of voices, I decided to do something.

I launched a new site.

Why? Because fear fears community. Fear always wants you to feel alone, like maybe you’re the only one who has doubts. And I wanted to have a safe place where people could admit the voices they hear.

In the first 24 hours, 1,000 voices were posted. And they are terrible and beautiful and hopeful. There’s no like button, all you can do is share a voice and click “me too” so someone else knows they are not alone.

Today, I dare you to share a voice.

Today I dare you to click me too.

Today I dare you to spend a minute on nomorevoices.com