Internal Dialogue

di·​a·​logue ˈdī-ə-ˌlȯg  -ˌläg: a conversation between two or more persons.

mono·​logue ˈmä-nə-ˌlȯg  -ˌläg: the act of talking to oneself. Signifying a long speech uttered by someone who has too much to say.

“The most important conversations you’ll ever have are the ones you’ll have with yourself.”

Attributed to Charles F. Glassman, MD.

This morning as the autumn sun shines brightly through my office window, I find myself thinking about earthquakes, winds, and fires. And about a series of conversations I had with myself last week while out on a long walk.

What started as a monologue ended up in a dialogue. If you are a person whose personality, temperament, or genetic makeup tends towards the anxious, intense, and fearful, you may relate.

And you know how thought conversations are: they can be convoluted, concentric, and a little irrational at times. I have tried to recreate them as best as I recall.  

*

(The day is unseasonably warm; my walk is brisk and energetic; the surrounding woods are busy with the soft, golden and melancholy whispers of leaves as they dance together at the end of their world…)

Then from out of the blue …

Self:

It’s a good thing people don’t know the real me. Ego-driven and proud alternating with lazy, uninspired, and unmotivated. And what I said the other day to that friend was really stupid. Not to mention I am still struggling with that same issue I had last year; there is obviously something very wrong with me. Why can’t I ever say or do the right thing? Why can’t I be more successful? I made that same mistake at work again; I sure wonder what my boss really thinks by now. I am surprised he keeps me on …

Very quiet voice from somewhere:

I created you. I don’t make junk. You need redemption but I love you as you are.

(I walk on; the sweet ambrosial smell of wood smoke encircles me; I sniff deeply and watch a squirrel collect stores for the winter in a nearby tree, his tail flickering like a metronome on too much caffeine…)

Then it starts again …

Self:

Communism, socialism, Islamic take-overs and something called “The Blue Wave.” Is this a dumpster fire or a wiener roast? What in the world is happening and what does it mean for our future and the future of America and how will this affect the economy and gas prices and should we stock up supplies and build bunkers or move to Panama and how will our children survive in a post-Christian, apocalyptic, dystopian, transgendered, unhinged America where leaders seem hellbent on destruction and dynamite and…

The quiet voice breaks in again from somewhere:

My kingdom is not of this world.

(I muse on this, while off to my left a bird whistles and another let’s go with a song that seems out of place for fall…)

Another mile …

Self:

I wonder how long I will have my job in healthcare. The FDA just approved robotic phlebotomy. AI models show better accuracy and empathy than human healthcare providers. Elon Musk says there will be no more surgeons in 5-10 years (some say there won’t even be humans by then!).  The Chinese robotic Olympics show that robots can do almost anything and do it better than humans. I am nowhere near retirement, and I wonder what will happen to me and my family and how we will survive living under a bridge and where this bridge will be and will I be good at sign making and begging and will people give a little to help AI displaced workers and will I be able to light a small fire using only sticks and will my wife live there with me and …

The quiet voice again:

I will be with you alway, even unto the end of the world.

(A steep hill makes me push harder; my breath quickens, but I find myself strangely comforted. I observe now, and appreciate, the fall colors, so varied and immense and overwhelming. The loveliness of the here and now, today, this moment, this place, my breathing, the sound of footsteps, the distant dog bark and trucks downshifting on the highway… )

*

Later, after these internal conversations, I am reminded of the prophet Elijah, caught up in his own dialogue with God. He’s exhausted, he’s in despair, possibly depressed, and altogether discouraged by the events of the day. I can relate even though I’ve never called down fire or slaughtered false prophets with the sword. He believed the stories he was telling himself. Ah yes, the stories we tell ourselves!

Then comes a wind, an earthquake, and a fire. Or for me: loud self-doubt and criticism; shaken faith in my country and this planet; fear and worries about the future.

God was not and is not in any of that.

Rather, He is the quiet voice and gently whispers to me truth. Truth that calms, quiets, and gives confidence. A new perspective on life, a new perspective on self, and the world. When you look out through God’s window, things look different. You suddenly see yourself, the world around you, and the future in a different light. And it looks workable, reassuring, hopeful.

Perhaps I will take the liberty to amend Charles Glassman’s quote: “The most important conversations are those you’ll have with yourself and with God.”

BF