Sunday. I suppose it is ironic that it is Sunday when I am having this particular revelation: I am finally getting more comfortable with, accepting that for me the life of the soul is everything. For the last ten years, I have been struggling with this notion as my life has walked further and further into practices, inquiries and vocations that take me into the depth of my depths.
But something has hit me this morning, well maybe it is more like a lifting, a lifting of shame and embarrassment about my need and love of all things soulful. I have struggled within my own heart with skepticism, doubt, and rational analysis that has come in many voices within me that see my infatuation with all things beyond the material as some kind of Freudian delusion. But at some point I have become tired of my internal eye rolling, and have woken up willing to acknowledge that being human means living on two planes. There is no denying it anymore. Even if one has no relation with the metaphysical in its most familiar form – God, there is still a need to read verse poetry, be stunned by a sunset, brought to tears by witnessing an act of kindness. And for me, this is the realm of soul. The human heart wants certain things, cannot always contain itself within level-headed hypotheses and this is the realm that I wish to get lost in, explore and I find my true self in.
So it is Sunday, and actually now that I think about it, there is no irony here, only what must be on this Sunday – one woman no longer making excuses for her heart and for her soul.