Soul Stories: Write about an Island
Photo by Roman Kraft on Unsplash
Write about an Island…
Rabbits. Quiet, jumping, content. Buns out, legs out. And chairs.
Lots of cozy chairs. And books. Books about interesting people telling
stories from the heart. About love
won. And love lost. Lessons learned. Coffee or tea. In Reggio inspired surroundings. Reminding us of the lovely bits of
childhood. Nice wood furnishings. And chandeliers made from random pieces. And the only music heard from time to time
would be produced by joy. Or peace. Or quiet. Lovely quiet. There’s a loft for those who want to sit and
talk quietly or read a stack of books by E. B. White or Kate Dicamillo. Over to my right is a craft table filled with
tissue paper and beads and noodles painted by children and yarn to make pom
poms. And air dry clay.
The weary would know about this island. And those who once gave their souls to
something bigger than themselves that were tossed aside as if their
contributions and sacrifices didn’t matter.
Those who forgot how to cry would find solace there. Those who laugh to keep from crying would
feel lifted and supported here. And they
would tell others that needed it about this island. That there is a place where your comrades
meet. Where you can feel the hope
kindling like logs in a fireplace. A place
where your hallelujah will return.
Soul Stories: When the Dust Settles
When the dust settles…
My heart will be released from this feeling that every
decision about where I go or what I need to do in life will not be contingent
on school schedules and deployments. I
can take a yoga class. And actually
arrive on time. And stay until the
end. I can sing alleluia and amen. It is finished. I have kept the faith. I was consistent through to the end. I can figure out why it is I still teach
preschoolers and watch the clock and hold my tongue. Where are the interesting people at? Why can’t I release myself from this cage of
monotony. My brain feels frazzled. I can only handle time in three hour
allotments. When I am released, I will break
out with abandon like pushing through the tape at the finish line. But for now I just show up and do the same
thing again. And again. And again,
When the dust settles, I wonder what I will think
about these last five years. The
commitment I made to explore this different type of work. Heart centered. Soul filling and at the same time soul
depleting.
I think about my eight year old self and this is not
who I remember. I remember a girl who
wanted to be an attorney at 25. Because
attorney equated to asking tough questions and solving problems and being on
the edge of my mental capabilities. I am
on the edge but it is emotional and it’s like… serving time.
