Part 3 Of My Awakening From
The “Stuck” Lotus, image generated from Chat GPT
Instructions for Having a Soul
All it wants is to live, to keep becoming.
Nourish it, and it puts down roots, it opens.
But starve it, and the mind, the flesh is empty;
the world breaks down; symphonies go unwritten;
the rockets fall; the children die
in flames.
Listen. It is not too late
to wake it. Say the names
of the wild, the forgotten things:
bluebird, red wolf, robin; violet, child, clover.
You cannot save the world but you can open
the window for the trapped wren in the cellar.
Read a book to a blind man, to your father.
Tell a child you do believe her anger.
Make your life the first life you save.
Joseph FasanoI didn’t know my soul could long for more than just heaven. I didn’t know my soul craved the scent of pine and fir, the spray of salt, the prayer of a heron standing in a river. Until too recently, I thought my soul was only for the afterlife. What I have since come to understand is that our soul is here for something so much more than being chased away from the gates of hell.
It is May 2015 when I realized my soul’s fire is slowly suffocating, when it has no more than embers that are about to be snuffed out by the next giant gust of wind. Prior to this, the only detail I believed about my soul is that it needed saving, or I’d perish for eternity. From the time I was in my mother’s womb, I’d live under the threat of “Do this or else,” doctrine and fear, and it became my greatest threat and motivator. If I wanted to sing with the angels, if I desired heaven over its counterpart, if I wanted to see anyone after I died - anyone “worth” seeing - I needed saving. To be saved meant I’d give up the world. I’d wear my hair long. I’d throw out my blush and lipstick. I’d send all those tubes packing so I could look the part, look holy enough for the gates of heaven. This seemed to be all that mattered.
