I am writing this post from my home office on a dreary Sunday evening. The rain has been hitting the ground with a loud angry racket from a dirty grey-brown sky all day long. It was perfect wake up weather for my morning soul status which had put a sign out that read “Closed for Minor Repairs” a signal to my body and brain that things might not fare well if I wasn’t careful.
I needed a bit of good steady rain to do a bit of soul repairing. Rain to me says “It’s okay! You can stay in today. Shut things down a bit and rest. Bask in the gloom! Wallow away! Eat chocolate! Do some bad, gloomy writing.”
Even the dogs did not want to go out this morning. They took one look at the water splashing up off the cold puddled ground and opted out. “We’ll hold it, thank you.” I made them go out anyway but neither of them would budge from the covered back steps. Our old yellow lab Daisy, is riddled with tumors and has a nasty cough. She doesn’t have much time left with us and is using this to her advantage. She gave me a pitiful look that labs are so good at giving and Duke our young dopey black lab gazed at me, agreeing with her longingly: “Let us in. We are not outside dogs. We are pets who want to get on the couch when you’re not looking and nap some more where it’s comfy.” So I let them in and gave them their “after potty” treats despite their lack of proper participation in the morning ritual.
Life is too short to argue with dogs.
Or with the soul. If my soul doesn’t feel like coming out to play, there is no point in trying to force it out, at least too quickly. It will only do harm to my body and mind and cause a down-hill spiral.
I did what any normal person with a slightly gloomy soul would do:
I updated my obituary. Gosh. Such a bitter-sweet story! It gets better every year! What a wonderful life I had! And I was so YOUNG! My people are going to miss me so much! It’s a terrible shame that I never made it to the top of that climbing wall at Wonderland to ring that damn bell and show all of my laughing children that I am strong and fearless. If only there could have been more time for me.
Then I ate some of the fudge I have been hoarding for a month: it now has a substantial dent in it. While sugar does not actually go directly to the soul (I don’t think) it seems to create some kind of protective barrier between the body and the soul. The body (the weakest of my three part person) is very vulnerable when the soul is not working properly. If I let them co-mingle during this time depression is surely to follow. Sugar helps. A temporary body boost. Plus, well, its fudge. Life is better with fudge. Everyone know this.
Finally I wrote down on small scraps of paper all of the things I have been doing that could be harmful to my soul. This is an intellectual process that allows my brain to humbly admit to current obsessive behaviors or thoughts that could be making my soul want to hide from the light. Then I took the scraps and put them in a jar and lit them on fire. This probably sounds a little witch crafty. But there is something about lighting shit on fire that just makes me feel good, especially when it is shit I want to let go of. You should try it! Today, there were quite a few scraps of paper and things got a little smokey. I didn’t want any of the children to think I was smoking (I would never do that) (anymore) or trying to set the house on fire so I had to open the window.
And then this wonderful smell of clean, cool spring rain came rushing into the room and suddenly my soul, body and mind all had this overwhelming urge to put on my rubber peace-heart sign boots and go puddle stomping with a couple of the kids. And we did.
After that things were sunnier.