Dear Boo and Bubble,
One thing is for sure…this Coronavirus has really
caused us all to overwhelmingly focus on the physical aspects of life. Nothing
like a good dose of deprivation to make you realize how important those routine
tennis games and YMCA balance classes actually are. For goodness sake, I wake
up every morning hoping my senses of taste and smell are intact, and find
reassurance when my stomach growls from hunger or my nose detects the whiff of
last night’s shrimp shells seeping through the lid of the garbage can.
And we now have a new term dictating our lives…one
that I don’t recall every hearing before…physical distancing. Perhaps
this practice has been the hardest of all to cope with. We are denied the
actual presence of family and friends. If we go outside, we must allow for
6-foot perimeters from others. Any contact with another human being must occur
through the restrictions of face masks and rubber gloves.
This overemphasis on our daily physical needs is
fraught with danger, as seen in the hoarding of certain commodities in response
to it. But there are more subtle concerns as well. In our efforts to protect
ourselves physically, we run the risk of eroding through neglect other
essential aspects of our being—the emotional and soulful. Even though subdued
by the physical, these components are equivalent in every way except one—they
take much longer to heal after being damaged.
That word…soul…these extraordinary times don’t
leave much room for the exploration of its meaning. Trust me, though, it is
times like these that demand such exploration, for normalcy gives us no
opportunity to either observe or grow character.
Dictionaries define the soul as the principle of life,
feeling, thought, and action in humans; regarded as a distinct entity separate
from the body; the spiritual part of humans as distinct from the physical part.
I would choose an even more basic descriptor—essence—which is the intrinsic
nature or indispensable quality of something, especially something abstract
that determines its character. Regardless of these nuanced differences, there
is one thing for sure…we are the arbiters of our souls and to disregard that
responsibility, no matter the demands of our attention elsewhere, is to abandon
our legacy.
It is pretty much universally acknowledged that,
unless a person is rendered incapable by some mental disorder such as
narcissism, sociopathy or psychopathy, we all have the ability to determine and
shape who we are. We can choose generosity over selfishness. We can demonstrate
empathy rather than egoism. We can give rather than take. But these are
conscious pursuits, not some passive outcomes that occur through osmosis.
The other day, I ran across a poem I wrote at some
point…I didn’t even remember doing so…and it indicates that I’ve had thoughts
about this matter before. It reiterates the point made here that a person’s
soul can’t be left to chance
The
Garden of My Soul
How will I
tend the garden of my soul?
It is truly
my choice.
Will there
be seeds of substance,
Deep rooted,
resilient, respectful of cycles of time and place.
Or will the
floral array crest with a brilliant splash
Only to
vanish with the first frost.
Will I take
time to discern the weeds one by one
And
deliberately remove them carefully to make sure that weeds are in fact what
they are.
Or will I uproot
them haphazardly with ignorance
Or even
worse, kill all those desired to ensure the death of the unwanted.
And will I
cultivate the soil
Giving back
the nourishment I take.
Or will it
not matter to me to use and use and use
Because it
is mine, mine alone, and there is no need to consider the consequences.
And, when I
am gone, will my garden flourish
So that
those who never knew me may know something of my essence.
Or will my
legacy coalesce around a rotting soaked loam
Not tilled
nor turned to refresh it with unsullied nutrients.
Yes, how
will I tend the garden of my soul?
It is truly my choice.
