The Message
My inner voice dictates a peculiar room-wanted ad — and I receive a reply almost immediately…
On Friday the 13th of October, my inner voice chases me to my desk the moment my morning meditation is over. My plea for at least a cup of coffee goes unheard.
“Now. Immediately,” it snaps.
I start up the laptop, resigned.
During meditation, my inner voice had whispered what I needed to do: write a room-wanted advertisement. It also supplied the text. Word for word. Including the square footage and the maximum rent.
“That large?” I ask doubtfully, typing what I have been told. “And that expensive???”
The inner voice is silent. It has said what it has to say. Any further word would be a waste of energy.
I have learned to obey it. That is precisely why I have been practising Zen for years. So that I do what needs to be done.
And ignore my ego in the process.
Because my ego has quite a lot to say about the inner voice’s instructions. And none of it is positive.
“Have you lost your mind?” it shouts at me. Its voice cracks with fear and fury. “You have no idea how things are going to turn out! At least wait until you know whether you can afford this!” It has to catch its breath before shrieking: “And today is Friday the 13th!!!!”
I tune out the ego’s hysterical rant as best I can. Thanks to the precise specifications provided by my inner voice, it takes me exactly one hour — and the advertisement is written, corrected, and uploaded.
After that, I am finally allowed to make an espresso. As I set the small aluminium pot on the old-fashioned stove, I reassure my ego: “There’s no need to get so worked up. Nobody will respond to that ad. The text was far too peculiar.”
Balancing my full cup of coffee, I wander back to my desk. I take a sip and, before settling down to work, check my emails.
“You have received a reply to your advertisement,” the housing portal informs me. I had posted my request exactly twenty minutes ago.
Startled, I open the message. It is from Esther. A few spare lines: she has a room to rent in Prenzlauer Berg. Exactly the size, and at exactly the price, I had specified. Attached, a photograph of the room: pale wooden floorboards, a wall of windows. A large balcony beyond.
Oh yes — she is a “spiritual healer.” And she studied the same subject as me.
As the ego collapses sobbing beside the desk, the inner voice smiles quietly to itself…
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