Soul Repair

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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.

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16 thoughts on “Soul Repair

  1. Loved reading this. You’re a great writer! I totally get all of this logic, by the way. Rain, fudge, fire- people thinking you’re doing some sort of witchcraft (I’m a Christian- haa..) and then playing in the rain like a kid. Yep; that all makes sense to me! :0) Great to meet you. (I’m Birgitta.) By the way, my kids are finally all 18+. Absolutely blog about them! It not only helps YOU, but when you’re no long here and have passed on to the other side, your kids will have more than a few pics of you and just their memories, you know? They’ll have a lot more than that. My blog is my thumbprint that I’m leaving behind. So in a strange way, we’re updating our obituaries all the time. 😉 (Half the time I feel like my ghost’s narrator…haha.) Nothing gloomy about that! x

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    • Finally someone thinks I make SENSE!!!! Wow! Thank you so much Birgitta! Looking forward to reading more of your words and seeing your beautiful pictures. You have great talent! Such fun meeting people like yourself in this quest of blogging, yes? Have a great day!!! Talk to you soon!

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      • Hey, it takes one to know one and my kids drove me batty years ago…haha. No really, they saved my life. But they DO grow up too fast! I miss my little innocent sweet cherubs. (Ok, that’s a stretch. Even for me.) They’re far more jaded than I am these days though. It happens! :0)

        Liked by 1 person

  2. Loved your post. I read it whilst standing in a tired and cranky airport queue and I laughed out loud and the gloomy people around me thought I was a bit silly, which is true, but at least you parachuted me out of their misery! I see you have and old and a young lab. We lost our black female lab (Also Daisy) to cancer last year but didn’t have a young one to take over. We now have a 16 week old pup of same breed, sex, and color. When she gets older we will get another to carry on. Too hard living without a Lab right under your feet. Keep up the great posts. Nice boots, my wife has similar ones, very fashionable you know. Cheers Nolsie.

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    • Thank you! Glad I made you laugh! Life with dogs: that would be a good blog topic! Sometimes I find myself talking more about my dogs than my children. Not sure how I would be without a dog in the house. Have a great day!

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  3. We had a LOT of thunderstorms this past summer in Charleston, SC. My Frank is scared to death of them (for what it’s worth, those Thundershirts really work). I have the same problem as you described when it came time for his morning “constitutional”.

    Frank took one look at the rain coming down, looked at me, and turned around to head back to the apartment door. I told him, “Nope, go do your business, buddy!”

    Frank went out the door, walked 12 inches to the end of the overhang and without turning around, lifted his leg on the side of the building. And in the middle of it, turned his head around and gave me a dirty look! Once finished, he came back and walked right past me as I stood in the open doorway. As he passed, he gave me a little “pfft”, blowing air through his jowls in disgust.

    He’s a trip.

    I enjoyed your post. Thanks.

    Jeff

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      • Frank is a 6-year old beagle. We found each other at the Hilton Head, SC Humane Society.

        Frank actually named himself. On the 90 minute drive home to Charleston, I called out every name I could think of – the only one he responded to was “Frank”. I even called out more names for about 5-10 minutes before saying “Frank” again. And he responded again – those were the only two times he lifted his head off the seat and looked at me.

        Please feel free to stop by my blog … my last post was about our trip to the dog park yesterday, and there’s another post in the “Frank Speaks” section where he describes our meeting for the first time.

        (And by the way, I would again recommend that you check into thundershirts for the labs. They made a world of difference for Frank – he hid in the closet for the first two storms we had until I bought one at the suggestion of a Facebook friend. He still doesn’t like them, but he’s nowhere near as agitated during a storm.)

        Liked by 1 person

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