Pat Taub
This is a tricky question because the soul is intangible, mysterious and hard to grasp, yet we recognize when our soul is awakened. Our world lights up, transporting us to another dimension. I feel soulful when I create a bouquet from wild flowers, re-engage with a long-lost friend, listen to Mozart, or take a solitary walk on country roads.
Wildflowers from my garden
In his book, “Falling Upward,” the author Richard Rohr, a Franciscan priest, believes that the primary task for our later years is to tend to the soul. He doesn’t regard old age as one of stagnation but one of soul work, which he calls, “the sacred dance.”
Father Richard Rohr discussing soul work.
The sacred dance is one where we plunge into our deeper self as a way of discerning what values we hold dear, using this as a blueprint to move into soul work. If we’re lucky our soul work will usher in that sought-after state known as “peace of mind.”
I imagine the sacred dance as de-cluttering my life of negatives, comparable to the approach advocated by Marie Kondo in her best seller, “The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up,” where she recommends sorting through one’s belongings and discarding anything that doesn’t bring you joy. Kondo believes that when we limit our surroundings to possessions that spark joy we will have a happier life.
Contemplating what brings joy
Applying the Kondo analogy, I have tried to sever contact with negative people who clearly are not joy carriers. When it comes to family I can’t readily disconnect from grumbling relatives, but I can set limits, letting them know I can’t accept their anger and walking away, if necessary.
It’s not always easy to recognize how I cramp my soul. Here’s where journaling, a spiritual practice and good friends make a difference. Journaling often clarifies why I’ve overreacted to someone or why I’m in a bitchy mood. A spiritual practice reminds me to meditate when I’m anxious, to practice kindness and gratitude to lighten my load. Good friends don’t let me get away with excuses for holding myself back and they’re there for me when hard times hit. I try to reciprocate in kind.
Close friends enrich our souls
Wanting to make the concept of soulful experiences more concrete, I asked several friends to describe the soulful moments in their lives. Here’s what they said: “Walking on the beach early in the morning when it’s deserted; working in the garden; listening to Bach; visiting an art museum; laughing with close friends; wearing my mother’s pearl necklace, making a roast chicken; losing myself in the writings of Alice Munro; working for a better world.”
I asked the same friends how often they had these soulful experiences. Without exception, they all said, “Not enough.” Why is it if we know what makes our souls sing, we don’t make an effort to bring these experiences to the forefront of our lives?
Savoring a cup of tea on a rainy day feels soulful
I find it helpful to surround myself with inspiring writings that remind me of the importance of soul maintenance. These words by Mary Oliver are pinned on the bulletin board next to my desk. When I read them, they spring my soul into action:
When it’s over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When it is over, I don’t want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.
I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.
.
