One morning last week at the breakfast table, I read the poem below and I tripped.
I tripped on one word.
The word was “thin” in the second paragraph.
But then I read more.
And dang it if I didn’t trip again!
This time, I tripped on the word “crumbs.”
And when the Universe TRIPS ME so obviously – and TWICE – I damn well WILL pay attention.
If you like, read this poem through. (I share more of my thoughts at the end.)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My soul slipped out of my body so it could finally sit down and speak to me face to face.
I was surprised how thin my soul appeared now that I could actually look at it with my eyes. It was so much skinnier than I thought it would be.
“Why aren’t you feeding me?” my soul asked.
I could tell it was struggling to maintain its illuminated outline. My soul flickered in and out like a fading truck stop bathroom light.
“I am,” I replied. “Don’t you remember last week when I let us watch that little self-guided meditation on YouTube that was about how to maintain a positive attitude or something?”
To be honest, I couldn’t quite remember what it was that I had watched – because I had fallen asleep about 45 seconds into the video.
My soul sighed.
“That’s not enough for me to keep my light blazing. What you have been giving me are crumbs. What I need is a banquet of beauty and wonder to feast on. I require a sprawling clambake of miracles and revelation to maintain my connection to Creation. I am starving for a fat spread of delicious marvel and decadent awe,” my Soul went on to say.
“Wow, I didn’t know you were such a diva,” I snapped.
“I’m not a diva. I’m malnourished,” it said to me while beginning to fade even more.
My frown touched my kneecaps.
“What can I do to feed you right now?” I asked.
My soul pointed toward the door.
“Let’s go outside. The way the light moves through the trees in the late Autumn is one of my favorite meals.”
I nodded my head and opened the door and we went on to gorge ourselves under the resurrecting light like it was a chocolate fountain.
It was a harvest of blessings.
“Thank you,” my glowing soul burped up to me through my veins. “This is exactly what I needed.”
“Of course,” I replied. “I’ll do better, I promise. I’ll give you a huge picnic every day.”
My soul hugged my bones tightly and said “Well, then I guess I better go shopping.”
“Shopping? For what?” I asked.
“For some stretchy pants.”
~ john roedel
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As I mentioned, I tripped. Twice.
That word “thin.” It got me. It grabbed me by the ankles and pulled me right down.
I admit when I read that word, THIN, my very very first thought was, “See? My Soul is thin. That’s how my body is supposed to be. Inside me, my True Nature is thin. Slim. Trim.”
But then I read the rest of john’s words.
Ya’ll, I posted about crumbs on Thursday. It was some part of what a client and I were talking about.
Now, today, I realize I was offering myself instructions. And maybe to her, too…but truly, as always when I’m coaching, I’m talking to MY OWN DAMN SELF.
As I was laying where I fell, here came the lessons:
My Soul is not meant to be THIN.
My body is not meant to be THIN.
My mind is not meant to be THIN.
My business and banks accounts are not meant to be THIN.
My relationships are not meant to be THIN.
MY LIFE – AND MY SOUL IN THIS – ARE NOT MEANT TO BE THIN.
There is, as john writes, “a banquet of beauty and wonder to feast on.”
And as i tripped over john’s words this morning, I realized I have been feasting on crumbs.
These crumbs do not nourish me. At least, they do not nourish me in the right ways. In the ways my Soul wants to be nourished. In the ways that nourishing my Soul allows my Soul to properly and fully and gloriously nourish me back.
These crumbs are barely sustainable, offering tiny handfuls of goodness, but mixed in with gritty confusion, pasty anxiety, and that foggy lack of clarity. Breathing, but just kinda.
I’ve been tiptoeing around the banquet. Around the clambake. Dipping in, and dipping right back out.
It is past time for me and my Soul to join hands and “gorge ourselves under the resurrecting light.”
After all, there’s a “harvest of blessings just waiting for us to feast on.”
Bring on the stretchy pants!!!!!
Warmly,
Angie