Voices ring around me, pealing like a carillon of clear bells in my fog. To hear a human voice speaking its truth is a clarion call to authenticity. It is disturbing, unnerving, disorienting. The evident clarity of another soul pierces unclarity, shows up the aimless wandering of my own soul. It is a wake-up call, a dawn bugle, a violent knock on the door in the night hours.
But to answer the call, open the door, rouse myself from sleep... What does this mean? What will it take?
For that voice, bell, clarion, bugle belongs to another and emanates from the true and courageous places of another’s deep self. To try to pick it up and sound it myself would be to enter even more deeply into the shapeless fog. Somehow, somewhere, I must awaken my own slumbering voice, speak kindly and urgently to my own timid soul.