A Night Without TV

So sometimes I have these little chats with myself.

“Self?” I may say.  “What in the heck do you think you’re doing?”

Fortunately, mySelf is usually quite patient with my silly questions, humors me, and encourages me to find my own answers by simply ignoring the question.  Well, at least I think that’s the plan.  Mostly, it leaves me to my own devices to figure out what the heck I’m talking about.

The latest round of self-talk was about the many creative avoidance techniques that I use to keep myself from having to face things that I’d rather not.  Maybe you know the drill.  Maybe you, too, have voices in your head that clamor to be heard, voices that you try to stifle but that just won’t go away.

Mostly for me, said voices refer to issues of spirituality and personal growth.  At the top of my current spiritual to-do list is, for example, is “Put Away Toys.”  That would mean any activity that distracts me from engaging with my True Self, as in TV and mindless iPad games wherein I tell myself that I’m improving my mental acuity and giving my brain free reign to roam around gathering  creative energy and a head of steam for something, though I know not what.

Unfortunately, television qualifies as a toy, so this no-TV edict is a whipdoozy.  It’s hard.  It’s a big ask, like the “Get a Dog” voice from twelve years ago that brought Charlie Chin Yoda into my life.  What will fill the ginormous void left by a blank TV screen?  Well ok, maybe I’ll give it a try—but I’m not making any promises.

The morning after my first TV-less night as I was whizzing down a country road at 60 mph, a sign on the side of the road grabbed my attention.  It said simply, “Celebrate your success.”  Well okay then.  I made it through one whole night without indulging in one of my favorite avoidance addictions.  Bully for me!

That was a over month ago.  Still, I struggle with the what-to-do-with-myself question that looms as TV hour rolls around every night.  It is like a night without a bottomless glass of wine.  My hope is that this emptiness too shall pass, as it did when I finally emptied my wine glass for the very last time and recovered from wineless nights.

So I say to myself, “Self,” I say?  What am I supposed to be doing with all of this blank-screen TV-less time on my hands?”

And my Self says to me, “Write your own story.  Tell your own truth.  Say it like it is in your world and do not concern yourself with how it is perceived.  Judgment is not your job.  Your job is simply to write.

Ah good old Self, good old Voice of Reason.  Always there with a ready answer when and if I’m willing to put away my toys and listen.