My physical self is a serious, demanding entity that grinds away at such questions as, “what is my purpose?”, “what is the meaning of life?” and “who am I?” This physical self is often battered by the shore of self doubt, hanging its head for not doing more, getting more, being more. My awkward, flawed and clumsy human self feels like a failure most of the time.
But my soul doesn’t even register that. My soul floats far and above and beyond the concept of failure and effortlessly into grace. This soul of mine soars with the possibility of self-expression, self-acceptance, self-love.
While human me struggles with frustration and restrictions, my soul wants to fly. It is begging me to allow myself to experience wonder in a great vista, in the quiet just before dawn, in the sound of a baby sleep-breathing. My soul waits patiently for me to enjoy the sensation of a glass of cool water or sunshine on my face. Inner me dances when a good song comes on the radio while outer me grips the steering wheel, frantically mentally flipping through all the things I need to remember.
Even when I am angry or sad or desperate, my soul delights in having feelings, as these emotions can’t disturb the perfect peace and serenity of an unshakeable soul. This soul of mine is most like a child, no concept of time, of rules, of social constructs. She just wants what she wants. All this soul wants to do is be in the world, to savor it, slather it on.
So what if I just go ahead and let my soul have its way? The back of my neck might stop hurting for one. I might even drink a little less coffee for another. This soul of mine wants to go for walks before breakfast, to sit and stare at the ocean or a lake or a little bubbly stream. She wants to know the names of all the flowers and then she wants to pick some to take home because flowers are for enjoying. She wants to sleep when she’s tired, light a candle when it’s dark, drink coffee in bed.
My soul eats frosting out of the jar, tries the Mariah high notes, and douses french fries in hot sauce before testing the piquantness. She drinks those little creamer cups at the diner just for fun, stays up late on a Sunday night.
Our souls have no frame of reference for worldly success and wealth. Our souls simply want us to live; reverently, joyfully when we can, and dripping with grace.
Are you doing something at this moment that you want to do? Kicking your feet up, drinking a soda, writing a novel, raising a child? Congrats! You’re a success.
Do you have an abundance of something? Friends, canned goods, time, a pile of notebooks filled with unreadable dither? Bravo! You’re wealthy.
And good grief give that deserving soul of yours what it wants.