I can’t believe that a person would spend their life going about at the same pace. Just as in a day of 24 hours some of the time you spend during that time is spent asleep and dreaming, the rest of it is spent at your job whatever that might be work or school and the remainder doing what you like. For some people their days never seem to end and these are the ones with jobs where they are always on call like doctors and nurses or firefighters or mothers. But, that is just one day. For some it is busy for much of the time, for others not so busy. But, for all of us somewhere in that day there is time to somehow call your own. This is my time. I claim it now and will allow nothing to intrude. Let’s put it another way. I hope nothing intrudes.
I want to be more fully here right now as I write. I want to immerse myself even more than I normally do. Supposing that when I normally write I write as I would swim upon the surface of the water. Now, I want to dive. I want to open my eyes under the water. I want to writhe and twist and be weightless for just a moment in time. I want to be as I would be out of this body in another time and place as I would be with my soul.
How can I even be apart from my soul? I am my soul and my soul is me, yet I do not understand my soul. I glimpse it upon occasion and stand scratching my head at the imponderableness of it. It is as a mother to my 3 year old self. I imagine that it is calm. I imagine that it knows what is best for me. I imagine that it knows what is in store for me in a general sort of a way. I am blithely happy with my childhood and my world extends about 5 feet around me.
My world. I am happy in my world. And, then comes outside of my world where I see for the first time playmates and school and teachers and those who are not my family. I do not understand them. They frighten me. And, yet my soul knows what I will encounter in a general sort of way. And, is not afraid.
My soul that knows for a certainty that I survived and thrived 2,582 years ago. My soul that knows for a certainty that I have loved many times, many husbands, many wives, many children. My soul that knows for a certainty that I have been kind and generous and loving. My soul that knows for a certainty that I have killed and murdered and been a horrible shit. My soul that doesn’t care about any of that. My soul that knows I am busy right now with this life. My soul who knows I am a blithering idiot and loves me even for it.
And, sometimes I dip below the surface.