I have to admit I experience a significant amount of pride when I get out there and do a sweat-worthy workout in my twice-weekly sessions with my trainer, which in my deductive mind, allows me license to eat a hearty after-meal, then pop a few cookies in my mouth, or enjoy a chocolate bar picked up at the health food store, without a twinge of guilt.
You don’t really “talk” to ghosts, anyway. It’s my experience, which is very, very limited, that it’s all unspoken. Nothing audible passes, though you do hear words, not through ears, more like in the chest, that juncture in the upper thorax, slightly above where the heart lies.
I’ve always had pride (that could be part of the problem here) about how healthy I eat and regularly exercise. I have counted on that track record to ward off common viruses and germ-passed illnesses that circulate on a regular basis, but a fissure has opened up in that theory.
Hari B Poet 