The History of the Soul

Profound words fromYeats’ The Speckled Bird:

“We will change all things if we can make the imagination sacred.  But all the images and impulses of the imagination, just in so far as they are shaped and ordered in beauty and in peace, must become sacred.  To do this they must be associated deliberately and directly with the history of the soul.”

Making the imagination sacred . . . deliberately and directly with the history of the soul.  These are some very very beautiful words.  When I read them, I feel engulfed by an unexpected blessing.  Such is the power of words and such is the power of aligning with the history of the soul.  The soul is old. And it has so much to share and to convey.  When I listen to my soul, I feel nurtured, guided, blessed, encouraged. And also questioned and mildly chastised in the ways of an old friend who knows my predilection to possibly  not advocate for myself or revert to unhealthy patterns.  How do you thank your own soul for being faithful and true to course? It is pretty amazing how we unerringly know that which is best for our own respective sense of Sacred.  This is very large stuff.  Maybe it is time to stop and appreciate our own selves for shaping and ordering Sacred into our days.

I LOVE Yeats’ words.  I have the power to change all things if I honor Imagination.  What a beautiful and risky and wild and easy choice.  When I allow for Sacred, all things are possible.  I want to fling open the door and welcome Imagination into my life.  Offer it the seat of honor at the head of the table.  I want to be mindful that it is best shaped and ordered in beauty and in peace.  What an amazing thing to be mindful of cultivating: beauty and peace.

I am reminded to honor my history while shaping and ordering with intention.  This is all such an enormous thing to realize when we discover that we have created such a moment by simply being ourselves.  By being transparent with others.  By laughing until our sides hurt.  By loving another with an easiness that transcends any sort of explanation.  By being willing to share our Sacred.

All while shaping and ordering and imagining a moment of bliss and generosity that will be included in our brief history.

Prompt: What do you like about your Alone Self?


PROMPT: What do you like about your Alone Self?  When was the last time you spent some time with your Alone Self?

These questions lead me to tap on my soul’s door and say: “Is anyone home in there?  Where have you been?”  Wait . . . where have I been?

And then the door opens . . .

Who do I see?  What is she doing?  What does the room look like?  What is the lighting like? Is there candlelight?  Is she listening to music?  If so, who is on her playlist?  What color(s) are the walls?   Are the floors bare or are there rugs?  What pictures are hanging on the wall? Are there muddy running shoes by the door?  Are there musical instruments?  Is it some kind of laboratory with an experiment brewing — test tubes and beakers bubbling over?  Is there a snowboard leaning against the wall?  What does the hearth area look like?  Are there books and papers piled on the table?  Is it bare?  Is it set for one?  Or two?  Or more?

Just writing these questions takes me on an expedition that leads me to better understand that which makes me who I am and that which I continue to create out of my passions and interests and fancies.  My definition of fun lies in this room, and the person who opens the door has been awaiting my knock.

As I answer these questions, I take a journey into what it is I love about being alive.  It is these things that I like about myself.  I like that I light an inordinate number of candles when I am feeling stressed.  I like being able to look at my wall of vintage and unplayable mandolins, knowing that someone once made music in them before the necks became too warped to play any longer.  If you look just so, you can see ethereal notes of music past drifting out of their sound holes.  I like using my stairway leading upstairs as my filing system for my research: a step for every barely-started project.  I like seeing my collection of high heels haphazardly strewn about my closet and bedroom: this means I am wearing them.  I like laughing with my loved ones, sometimes at really inappropriate times.  I like that I keep at least two pairs of dance shoes in my truck at all times, one black pair and one red pair.   Although my kitchen may smell funny, I like making my own kefir and kombucha.

As I think about what lies within and as I enjoy what I see, I now see my soul’s room as being inordinately messy and cluttered and hodge-podgey.  No wonder I feel this way in my real life.  Wait . . . this is my real life.  And this is all good.  It adds to my sense of self and to my sense of connection to others.  It is I who has created all of this . . .  um . . . creativity.  And maybe it is time for some Spring Cleaning, but this looks like a really fun place in which to create and to be today.  To be with my Alone Self.

A few questions for you:

What do you like about your Alone Self?

What do you see when your soul opens the door?  What does it feel like?  What does it look like?

After visiting this room, what do you like even better about your Alone Self?

Blessings to you today as you explore the hidden and unseen passages to your soul’s door.  Perhaps it is along this circuitous journey where I make the biggest connections with my Alone Self.  Boosh and Bwoom!  Momentary flashes of discovery lighting my way.

Liking my Alone Self allows me to extend myself to others and make connections that I might have missed, if I am not mindful of  keeping the soul’s door open.  That is the beauty of spending time with yourself: when you return to your Others Self, you have decided if you are going to keep the door closed or prop it open with a stone.  Today, the door is flung wide open.  Bliss ensues.