My spirit—you know, that intangible part of me that’s connected with God—I’m not sure it lives inside me. Sometimes I think it’s as if I made her a little house out front. Like a birdhouse, pretty and ornate, but probably too small, now that I think of it.
I go out and visit my spirit every day, sometimes a lot. It’s very important to me. Sometimes it sends me back with little gifts, like flowers that I put on the table and draw strength from, and bask in their beauty.
But I don’t invite my spirit inside. Well, sometimes for a tour or a cup of tea. But not to live here. She lives near. She is part of my life.
But what if she were inside and saw me, head in hands, drowning in depression? Would she have something to say?
Or if I said, “Yes, yes, I’ll do this or that,” to please someone else, when I knew the promise would compromise me—what if my spirit saw that?
What would my spirit do when she watched me sitting at the computer, lonely, longing for love and thinking that it comes from outside of me?
What does she think of my physical exercise—is she present? Does she come along for the walk, and jog when I jog? Does she surround my body and take pleasure in the feel of strength and sweat?
Why do I leave my spirit outside in her little house when I’m worried about where I’m going to live or what is going to happen to my family? Would she not comfort me?
Why don’t I let her in, with her golden connection with God? Why don’t I let myself feel my heart full of Divine Love that pours and pours until I can’t hold any more and then it still keeps pouring?
Why don’t I let her be my advocate, and feel her tangible confidence protecting me when I need someone to tell me, “It’s okay to say no.”
What would it feel like if I let my spirit live throughout my body, see through my eyes, notice the sounds that I normally ignore? What if I lived from that place of unity with my spirit instead of just going to visit?
P. S. Dear friends, please take this as metaphor, not theology. It’s about realizing that I often forget that my spirit, intertwined with God, is my life, not just an intimate part of my life.
Photo by Valerie Everett
It’s beautiful. I always look forward to your posts.
I have often — often! — pictured myself as standing on the edge of the circle of my life, and longing to be in the center of it, grounded and integrated. Feels like your image is getting at the same sort of thing.
Interesting that in my image I’m located on the edge / outside, and in yours you’re in the center and the thing you want is on the edge / outside. I have no idea if that surface / apparent difference means anything or not.
The nature and source of love is confusing. On the one hand, there is surely an element of self-love that comes from within, God-given and approved. On the next hand, there’s God’s love, that is both that built into us and that poured into us. On the third hand, we are not designed to be alone, but in community — there is an element of love that IS external. But I suppose the idea in your post is that love can’t be only external.
Thanks, Marcy. I agree with all three of your points about love. And I think it’s about looking the right direction at the right time. I will say that in my experience, when I look for God’s love as if it’s coming from a place outside of me, I feel like it is just beyond my grasp. When I am able to settle and seek God as the one who is in me, I experience love much more.
True — good point about the direction and timing. Have we talked about Madame Guyon?
I suspect that if I could live in self-love and God’s love more securely, I would have more ease with people — more able to love them, more able to receive love, less desperation and dismay and demandingness.
My life is hid with Christ in God. I don’t remember where that verse is, but I’ve always liked it. Or, in him we live and move and have our being. I seem to remember the willing but awkward dancing-in-place to the song based on that verse at WNTC. It may have been another song. And that reminds me of Iona’s song, Today: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rnI8TwVWL8U
I think she would say, “I love you, and I love being integrated with you. Let’s do this some more!”
It isn’t uncommon to feel distant or separate from our souls during uncertain and scary times– and you are certainly going through a really scary time. It is frustrating because when you want to feel complete, when you need to feel complete, that’s when it is most difficult. It’s wonderful that you can imagine her close by though (even if metaphorically). Don’t underestimate the power of the metaphor. I am glad you have such a wonderful imagination!
Really like this post. Read it through several times and I find it really thought-provoking. It makes me think of the CS Lewis quote, “You don’t have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body.” (Oh, to be one millionth as articulate as that man was.) I really like the image of the soul living in a birdhouse, just fluttering and twinkling around like Tinkerbell. It’s a really nice post, Christen.