When I get a cold, my voice often drops octaves from its usual soft-and-needs-a-mic-in-front-of-audiences self to a James Earl Jones-ish bass.

Stentorian.

In my high school teacher days I caught many colds and I liked that deep, changed voice. It was unexpected and powerful.

But here’s the thing: If that giant voice comes rumbling out of my chest like the thumping bass in a passing car when I’m sick, doesn’t it mean that it’s always there, just hidden?

I keep thinking about this. I’m at a pivotal point in life. The thought of unseen and untapped power is entrancing.