Feeding My Soul

Currently Reading: On Celtic Tides by Chris Duff and Bossypants by Tina Fey

These past few days, with another birthday celebrated, memories of Ireland haunting my thoughts, and pondering the thoughts and reflections I have read in On Celtic Tides, I have been doing so much thinking. Looking inward, exploring the crevices of my soul, looking at who I am and how I live this wild and precious life I have been given. Jotting down words, eager to capture the thoughts that dart like small fish from rock to rock through my mind. It is so healthy to stop, and breathe, and peel back those inner layers. So life-affirming to focus on each breath and recognize that I am alive! There are several reasons why I should not be here, why this exclamation means so much to me. And though I too often let life pass me by, this year I truly have made a conscious effort to stop and notice the happiness that abounds in the little things around me. There are days where I forget and I let the unimportant things overwhelm me but, in an honest conversation with myself, I can say that I feel I am slowly but surely succeeding in fully living my life.

And I don't know why the urge to write all of this out came upon me tonight but my soul feels like it will burst with all of the images and thoughts that have been brewing inside, so writing will be my form of release, helping me sort and organize the contents of my soul tonight. My soul.. that beautiful, enigmatic thing inside me that cannot be X-rayed or operated upon, but that is so obviously there. I feel it more assuredly than I feel my own blood in my veins. This precious and delicate thing that I hold inside an imperfect body, the only thing I will take with me when I discard my body here on Earth. I live to feed it, to make it strong, and to help it grow. Like an athlete building muscle tone, I follow the passions and intuitions that allow my soul to expand and try to notice the little gifts God drops into the day, adding substance to the soul inside of me.

Things like: reading books, getting lost in the words and worlds to be discovered in each one; spinning in my living room to music that moves me; dust motes dancing in a band of early morning sunshine; kneading pliant bread dough, feeling the smooth elastic under my hand as I shape it into place; watching the clouds change second by second as the sun sinks ever closer to the horizon; forming poems out of nothing but images and letters twisted into words; gazing at the moon; feeling connected to the stories and the mysteries of times past, and the sacred wonder of the fragility of time; the hum of good conversation; baring my soul to someone I trust; an early morning hug in a coffeeshop; remembering, with bittersweet happiness, our front-seat viewing of the dance of sun on water and water against cliff, on a holy island in Donegal Bay, my head on my true love's knee.

Little, simple things that form a life, like ingredients coming together to create a feast. And I am oh, so grateful.

My soul feels calm again, and I am satisfied. Thank you for listening.