Who’s in Your Ear?

Who’s in Your Ear?

By Kateb Nuri-Alim Shunnar

You ever stop and ask yourself that question? I mean really pause and think who’s been speaking into my life lately? Not just the voices around you, but the ones living rent-free in your head too. Because whether we realize it or not, somebody’s always in our ear. And sometimes, it’s not who we think.

See, the mind’s a crowded room. You've got past pain sitting in the corner, whispering things like, “You can’t trust anybody.” Ego’s lounging on the couch, puffed up and loud, pushing pride over peace. Then there’s frustration pacing the floor, talking slick, ready to go off before you even know why you’re upset. And anger? Anger’s that guest who don’t knock—just barges in and flips the whole table over.

Truth is, I’ve listened to all of ’em. And when I did, I didn’t just mess up moments I damaged things. Hurt people who actually had my back. Bruised my spirit. Distanced myself from folks who were only trying to help me see clearly. And let me tell you, that kind of self-inflicted damage stings in a way that lingers.

I remember sitting outside on the steps one hot evening. My thoughts were heavy, all tangled up with regret and restlessness. My grandma Celestine came out, easing herself into that old chair next to me like she’d done it a thousand times before. She didn’t say much at first. Just sat there, snapping beans like the rhythm itself was holy.

After a while, she looked over and said,

“Baby, who’s been talkin’ to you? Cuz it sure ain’t wisdom.”

That caught me off guard.

I shrugged and muttered something like, “I don’t know… I guess just me.”

She gave me that look gentle but sharp. The kind that saw through your bones.

“Sometimes,” she said, “it ain’t you. It’s what’s wounded inside of you. And if you let that wounded part do the talkin’, it'll have you pushin’ away love, burnin’ bridges, and sittin’ in ashes talkin’ about loyalty.”

She was right. As always.

See, it’s not just about the people we’re listening to it’s also the feelings we’re giving the mic to. And not every emotion should get a say. Just because it’s loud doesn’t mean it’s wise. Just because it feels real doesn’t mean it’s right.

The voice of anger sounds bold, but it's reckless.

The voice of ego sounds confident, but it's scared.

The voice of past hurt? That one’s tricky it mimics truth but lacks grace.

My grandmother kept talking, her voice soft but firm.

“The enemy don’t always come dressed in red with horns, sugar. Sometimes he just sounds like your own voice on a bad day.”

Whew.

That sentence still echoes in me.

Because how many times have I followed the wrong voice, thinking it was my gut? How many relationships did I strain because I mistook defensiveness for strength? How many chances to heal did I throw away because pride told me to stay silent?

I’ve learned sometimes the best thing you can do is shut up and sit still. Not everything needs a reaction. Not every offense needs a response. Silence can be sacred when you're trying to figure out which voice is worth listening to.

Peace? Real peace? It doesn’t yell.

It’s quiet.

It’s steady.

It feels like truth wrapped in softness.

And if a voice is dragging you toward bitterness, isolation, or self-destruction? That ain’t spirit. That’s sabotage.

Now when my mind gets noisy, I take a breath and ask, “Okay, who’s in here with me?”

And then I go back to that porch with Celestine.

Back to her wisdom.

Back to her warmth.

Back to that bean-snapping rhythm that felt like a lullaby for my soul.

Because that woman knew some things.

She knew that the people who truly love you won’t always hype you up they’ll slow you down. They’ll remind you of who you are when you forget. They’ll call out your mess without condemning your heart. And they’ll love you in a way that silences the chaos.

We all need someone like that in our ear.

And when we don’t have someone like that outside of us, we gotta be that voice for ourselves.

So I’m asking you, like my grandmother asked me Who’s in your ear right now?

Is it fear dressed like wisdom?

Is it rage in a preacher’s robe?

Is it insecurity calling itself “discernment”?

Or is it grace?

Is it the Creator?

Is it your higher self gently tugging you back to center?

If it ain’t calming you, healing you, or guiding you with love it’s probably not the voice you need. Protect your ears like you protect your spirit. Because what you listen to will shape what you live out.

And don’t get it twisted being real doesn’t mean being reactive.

It means being rooted.

So yeah, I’ve learned the hard way. But I’m learning still.

To sit with myself.

To pray before I speak.

To check the voice before I follow it.

Because at the end of the day, I want to be led by something that builds not breaks.

And I hope the same for you.