“If you hear a voice within you saying, ‘You are not a painter,’ then by all means paint...and that voice will be silenced.” ”
~Vincent Van Gogh
Waiting at a red light this morning, I glanced in my rearview mirror and caught the flashing lights of the motorcycle police officer behind me. Edging hopefully over toward the center-line, so he could get around me, I saw his reflection in the mirror motioning me to pull over to the side of the road. Ignoring the instant knot in my stomach, I signaled, checked my blind spot, and moved over – funny how drivers are happy to let you in when they’re overwhelmed with feelings of gratitude (Thank God it’s her and not me) and superiority (She must have made a Bad Driving Decision). I mentally reviewed the last few yards of my trip. Although I consider myself a good driver, I have a few bad habits, and have been known to fail to come to a full and complete stop before executing a free right hand turn when the road is clear. I often follow this maneuver by turning directly into the outermost lane without signaling, thus violating two rules in mere seconds. Since I had just turned right, I rolled down the windows and prepared to hear my infraction, with as much graciousness as I could summon.
The officer greeted me with “Ma’am, I pulled you over for failing to wear a seatbelt.”
Glancing down at the seatbelt firmly strapped across my chest and lap I offered the witty response “I’m wearing my seatbelt.”
Nothing if not patient, he replied “Yes, you’re wearing it now.” While I stared blankly back at him (apparently my brain cells don’t need a seatbelt, they restrain themselves out of force of habit) he elaborated: “You had one arm out of the seatbelt – I could tell because of the contrast of your green sweater and the gray belt. I need to see your license and insurance.”
We all have things in our lives we are certain of. I am certain I always wear my seatbelt. I put it on before I start the car, and I take it off after I turn off the engine at my destination. I yell at my kids if they mess around with the seatbelt. I refuse to double-buckle children in the backseat even if it inconveniences someone, even if “everybody” does it. If I wore my seatbelt the way this officer suggested I was wearing it I would either have an annoying strap behind my head or I would be cutting off my airflow. It would be impossible to shift gears without the belt getting in the way. I handed this mistaken man my driver’s license and said: “I NEVER do that.” Even when I handed him an expired insurance card, and then dug around some more in the glove box to find an even less recent version dated 2002, I didn’t feel worried. I didn’t feel defensive. I felt like I better clean out my glove box sometime soon but I knew with every fiber of my being that I wasn’t getting a ticket. And, watching me unearth fast food napkins, Band-Aids, Les Schwab tire warranties, maps to places I’ve never been, but no insurance card, the officer knew it too. He said “never mind Ma’am; you’re free to go.”
Once I reached my destination, I had plenty of time to contemplate this seemingly random event. Why is it that the moment we see those flashing lights we automatically start looking for faults? It’s like a spell check –we go over everything in one massive sweep searching for errors. For me, it’s almost automatic. And I wondered what other voices or cues have that authority in my life right now. Whose rulebook am I following? Or, if I’m choosing to follow my own rules, am I doing it with the fear of “getting caught”?
Many of us assign power to childhood ideas, rules we’ve absorbed but don’t know we have, until some reminder, the equivalent of sirens and flashing lights, provokes that sick feeling in the pit of our stomachs that has us doing a life review for “mistakes.” Some call it the voice of self-doubt, or the inner critic, the judge, or self-defeating thoughts. Whatever the name for it, often the first thing we notice is the anxiety, and in the midst of that strong emotion, the brain seems to be seat-belted into the negative thinking driver’s seat. When I was able to look that officer in the eye and say, “I NEVER do that,” I shifted gears. My focus on my own truth reminded me that lights, whistles, uniforms, authority, power, weapons, age, money – none of those things alter truth. My truth, and each person’s truth, can only be found within. It can’t always be proven or argued. It’s simply known, within me, within you. My truth may be very different than what someone else has in mind for me, someone else’s perception or even what someone thinks he sees with his own eyes. Even when I know what’s right for me, and act on it, I may still be told I’m wrong. I may be denied something, or at the very least delayed on my journey. When we have the courage to act from our deep and pure beliefs of what is right for us, we work from a conviction that has the power to create change. Taking time to discern what is our own truth, and what is really somebody else’s truth for us, is a process. It takes effort, patience and perseverance. On the way home from my appointment I checked twice to see if I was wearing my seatbelt, even though I knew I was. Self-doubt is a loud and persistent voice, but Truth’s clear tone cuts through all the noise when we train our ears to listen for it.
~ © 2007, Linda Firth
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