Soul work
"All day I think about it, then at night I say it.
Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing?
I have no idea.
My soul is from elsewhere, I'm sure of that,
and I intend to end up there." -- Rumi from the poem “Who Says Words With My Mouth”
The above poem is from Coleman Barks’ book, The Essential Rumi. You’ll find the whole book online but I have a paperback version; it’s the only way I can read poetry – in the physical realm.
As to the rubric, sadly, the word “soul” is severely overused, perhaps to the point where it’s traded as if it were a commodity that was easily accessible with a retreat, psychic tune-up or a 7-step programme.
Speaking for myself – who else is there! – I don’t think the soul is so easily fooled. In fact, I think the soul is one of those things that is beyond the ken of our logic-induced, binary-oppositional purview of the world. I realise that to say it has portent is making a rather obvious, slightly sanctimonious point but it can’t be corralled lest still commanded at will to do our bidding. Yes, we can access the edges of our soul but there’s pain, suffering and loss of faculties at stake (no, not madness but it’s never far out of reach) if you want to go the whole hog.
I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to wanting more of it but too often I think I’m confused with wanting to experience a deeper experience of being in this world. Or perhaps what I covet is to feel a sense of connectedness to my work – the work that I was born to do, not this moribund, ennui-infusing malarky that I’ve so easily fallen under the spell of and for so long.
Actually, I’m not sure that last paragraph is entirely accurate. I don’t think we have to practically kill ourselves to get closer to or be drawn in by our soul but to find something that we’re on the receiving end of – much like life. In my case, I find that space or I can access that space in music and dance – even the silly dad dance variety that I’ve been known to let loose on the unsuspecting world. Also, the encounter with a ‘live’ experience can disconnect me from this cartesian abstraction that I’ve got so used to, meaning I’ve lost connection with the mystery of life. (What is this? is still one of those questions that goes on and on to the depths of my learned experience and beyond, and brings me (thankfully) to my existential knees.)
But, when I think about what Rumi is trying to say, I have to admit feeling at one with his words, and when he talks about “[ending] up there” I don’t think he means necessarily in this life; I concur. And that then gets me thinking about elders, ancestry and what it means to grow old. Imagine feeding our ancestors with our work – our soul work or whatever truly, gladly, blissfully floats our boat.
The thing is I could write pages and pages on this topic, circumnavigating as they do so much of my unlived life.
What about you?
What does it mean to be engaged in soul work?
Blessings and much love,
Julian
PS. Over the coming months I’m going to be writing a small book – a chapbook of sorts – where I pull together a few themes that have continued to haunt me in this world. One reason for upping the ante on my writing on Substack is not to flog the bejeesus out of things but to exercise my writing and thinking muscles and to help me with the book. Thanks for bearing with me in my forthcoming hours of need.
Photo by Oscar Nord on Unsplash