a soulblog?

a SOULBLOG is a RECORD OF THE SOUL’S SOLITARY JOURNEY

The best way for me to answer this fully is to give you the preamble from my and Andrew Ruhl’s book, After The Interlude:

Every soul on this Planet has come here to undertake a unique Solitary Journey. That Journey is to be worked out through the body and personality that the soul inhabits and surrounds.  There is a congenital problem of sorts with this Truth.

This problem results from the Process of Forgetfulness we undergo as we make our way here.  In essence, we become separate from our souls.  I, as the newborn baby, know nothing of this new world.  I arrive possessing nothing, but, as Wordsworth said, “trailing clouds of glory”.  My new life and beginning personality are in the hands of the parents, caregivers and forces that will shape me.  And, within the deep recesses of my being, my soul slumbers on, waiting, like the frogs and princesses of the fairy tales and fables I will soon hear, to be awakened to the truth and beauty of who I actually am.

The ultimate important choice we make in life, then, is to pay attention with all of our senses to the irrepressible nudges of our forgotten soul and to take this solitary journey, the journey to and of the soul.  The penultimate choice we must make is to discover our souls. Some personalities never uncover their souls, and thus wander through life.  Other personalities become highly actualized and connected.  Many of us find ourselves on a point on the continuum between oblivion and hyper-awareness.  And, while no two journeys are the same, the intersection of journeying souls is a critical occurrence.  It is at the intersections that we meet our soul mates.

On this journey, the soul remembers.  It calls out for attention.  If we don’t give it the attention that it needs, the stimulus will come knocking at the door when we are most available and most vulnerable.  The solution, the healing, is simple and difficult.  It rests in that core paradox of the marriage of loss and abundance.

In embracing the “enemy”, in mourning our losses and loving ourselves, we are brought to the unexpected and enigmatic reward of contentment and internal reconciliation.  It is through the inward wordlessness of personal reconciliation that the soul is permanently located.

There is no logic, nor order, to loss and grief, joy and abundance.  And so, the story of any solitary journey is not an orderly one.  What is stored in the cells has no sense of time.  And often it has no sense of propriety.

and a poetic way of bringing the meaning home:

singular journey 

i would take your place
you know that don’t you?

i see a prairie freight train
            locomotive steaming
            shooting soot
            into the air
and onto fresh white laundry
            fresh white teeth
            fresh white eyeballs
roaring through the intersection
of my head and soul—
            of national railways—

and i am back-but-older, the playing chicken kid
            this time a mother alone—
i hear and my eardrums split.
hurtling, steaming, shrieking it comes
            and i step…

i know, mum, he says—but
this is my solitary journey.


 

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