Dissolve Your Purpose into the Waters of your Soul
Is our purpose limited only to the work we do, or is it more than that? Is it just what we turn on for clients or a zone we only get into when we're writing our books? Do we turn it off for the most of the day and week?
What if we let that passion and purpose permeate everything, all of our relationships, even how we keep our house, how we cook food, how we look at the view out the window, how we perceive the world? What if our purpose and passion gave more SOUL to every aspect of our lives.
While thinking about this, I had a dream where I was reminded of a scene in my novel Water.
In the following autobiographical scene, I describe my first workshop on shamanism in Seattle with the famous shamanic teacher Michael Harner. A large group of us sit in a circle. For those who don't know shamanism, part of it includes doing visualizations, taking "journeys" to meet spirit guides to ask them questions. The following recounts my first time ever "journeying" for another person.
***
I turn to the woman beside me. She looks like Tammy Faye. Short and round, a tight perm, pearl necklace, pearl earrings. Her perfume overwhelms me. As I look her over, she looks me over. My skinny jeans, tight concert t-shirt, combat boots. We are an odd couple. We are two people who would never hang out.
The assistant says we must give our partner a question, and we will go on simultaneous shamanic journeys to ask the other person's guides for answers.
I ask her what her question is and she says, “How can I expand my work as a Christian missionary?” I think: how odd and wonderful that she’s Christian, and she’s here doing this shamanic workshop, something so pagan.
We’re told to lie back and have the sides of our bodies touching. The drumming starts. I find myself immediately transported.
I'm at a river bank. The grit and mud, the sparse grass like balding hair, it’s as real to me as anything in normal reality. A guide comes up beside me; he looks like Jesus. In front of me is a small pool of water. Beyond the small pool is a narrow strip of land, and beyond that a wide river with a strong current. It’s muddy and reminds me of the Missouri River.
Jesus hands me a wafer, the body of Christ. I know it well from Catholic Mass. He tells me, “Put the wafer on the ground, in the grass.” I do so. He traces around it with his finger. “This is the extent of the space it takes up,” he says. “You see the space it occupies?”
I nod.
“Now put it in the pool.”
I do so, placing it into the tiny, still pool in front of me. It breaks apart and dissolves.
“Now, in this small pool, it has dissolved, and see what space it takes up," Jesus says. The pool is less than two feet in diameter.
I nod.
“Now watch this.” The river swells, breaks the bank, and swirls into the tiny pool. The river absorbs the pool and the tiny particles within it, and the current pulls it out and away. “Now see the space the wafer takes up. It flows in vast directions.”
I nod.
He says, “Tell her to bring her Christianity into every area of her life, not just church. Tell her to dissolve it into the waters of her soul and have it permeate her every breath.”
I hear rapid drumming and this is the cue that we're meant to come out of the meditation. I do so and sit up and blink my eyes. The woman also sits up.
I give her the message word for word, with all of the visuals. She melts. She cries.
“Yes, I keep my Christianity at the church. You’re right. It needs to be everywhere in my life.” She has the bluest, most gentle eyes. I didn’t notice them before. She thinks for a while, then looks at me with such trust until I melt. “Thank you.” (She tells me the answer to my question but I'm editing that out here for brevity.)
She hugs me. I don’t see her as “other” anymore, like I did before. I realize we are both just people, just living, just doing our best.
***
Think about this for yourself. How much of your spiritual/creative life is a wafer that you keep limited to the grassy area of client calls or the 30 minutes you do yoga? How much of your spiritual/creative work is compartmentalized?
I know when I attempt to let soul permeate everything, I'm so much happier, so much more fulfilled. When I see a person or the forest or even my dog as a painting of lights and darks, when I see it all as poetry, my soul sings. What if we could see the soul in paying our bills?
What if our soul work is a conversation we bring everywhere, waters we swim in all day, an energy we bring with us wherever we go, the very air we breathe.
What if you dissolved your soul expression into the very current of your life?
What if we let that passion and purpose permeate everything, all of our relationships, even how we keep our house, how we cook food, how we look at the view out the window, how we perceive the world? What if our purpose and passion gave more SOUL to every aspect of our lives.
While thinking about this, I had a dream where I was reminded of a scene in my novel Water.
In the following autobiographical scene, I describe my first workshop on shamanism in Seattle with the famous shamanic teacher Michael Harner. A large group of us sit in a circle. For those who don't know shamanism, part of it includes doing visualizations, taking "journeys" to meet spirit guides to ask them questions. The following recounts my first time ever "journeying" for another person.
***
I turn to the woman beside me. She looks like Tammy Faye. Short and round, a tight perm, pearl necklace, pearl earrings. Her perfume overwhelms me. As I look her over, she looks me over. My skinny jeans, tight concert t-shirt, combat boots. We are an odd couple. We are two people who would never hang out.
The assistant says we must give our partner a question, and we will go on simultaneous shamanic journeys to ask the other person's guides for answers.
I ask her what her question is and she says, “How can I expand my work as a Christian missionary?” I think: how odd and wonderful that she’s Christian, and she’s here doing this shamanic workshop, something so pagan.
We’re told to lie back and have the sides of our bodies touching. The drumming starts. I find myself immediately transported.
I'm at a river bank. The grit and mud, the sparse grass like balding hair, it’s as real to me as anything in normal reality. A guide comes up beside me; he looks like Jesus. In front of me is a small pool of water. Beyond the small pool is a narrow strip of land, and beyond that a wide river with a strong current. It’s muddy and reminds me of the Missouri River.
Jesus hands me a wafer, the body of Christ. I know it well from Catholic Mass. He tells me, “Put the wafer on the ground, in the grass.” I do so. He traces around it with his finger. “This is the extent of the space it takes up,” he says. “You see the space it occupies?”
I nod.
“Now put it in the pool.”
I do so, placing it into the tiny, still pool in front of me. It breaks apart and dissolves.
“Now, in this small pool, it has dissolved, and see what space it takes up," Jesus says. The pool is less than two feet in diameter.
I nod.
“Now watch this.” The river swells, breaks the bank, and swirls into the tiny pool. The river absorbs the pool and the tiny particles within it, and the current pulls it out and away. “Now see the space the wafer takes up. It flows in vast directions.”
I nod.
He says, “Tell her to bring her Christianity into every area of her life, not just church. Tell her to dissolve it into the waters of her soul and have it permeate her every breath.”
I hear rapid drumming and this is the cue that we're meant to come out of the meditation. I do so and sit up and blink my eyes. The woman also sits up.
I give her the message word for word, with all of the visuals. She melts. She cries.
“Yes, I keep my Christianity at the church. You’re right. It needs to be everywhere in my life.” She has the bluest, most gentle eyes. I didn’t notice them before. She thinks for a while, then looks at me with such trust until I melt. “Thank you.” (She tells me the answer to my question but I'm editing that out here for brevity.)
She hugs me. I don’t see her as “other” anymore, like I did before. I realize we are both just people, just living, just doing our best.
***
Think about this for yourself. How much of your spiritual/creative life is a wafer that you keep limited to the grassy area of client calls or the 30 minutes you do yoga? How much of your spiritual/creative work is compartmentalized?
I know when I attempt to let soul permeate everything, I'm so much happier, so much more fulfilled. When I see a person or the forest or even my dog as a painting of lights and darks, when I see it all as poetry, my soul sings. What if we could see the soul in paying our bills?
What if our soul work is a conversation we bring everywhere, waters we swim in all day, an energy we bring with us wherever we go, the very air we breathe.
What if you dissolved your soul expression into the very current of your life?
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