Identity

Feeding My Soul is the Hump Day Hmmm


Julie asked, What feeds your soul. What do you do to renew yourself? And how does this fit within the cultural boundaries that fence you? Big questions that grew out of a friend’s need to cook for others as she looked for footing and more level ground following the death of her father.

My reply is – I don’t know.

I am not sure that what we refer to as the “soul” is renewable as much as it is elastic. For most of us it can stretch and snap back, holding up to a remarkable amount of challenge and even abuse.

Deliberate recharging of the energy source that makes this possible is something I haven’t spent much time considering. I know that many of us take holidays, but I find getting away to be merely doing what I do normally, more of less, in a new locale. There is little about it that is relaxing or recuperative in a me time sort of way.

Is soul food Me Time? Alicia wrote about naming that time we dedicate to ourselves. Defining it.

Does the soul need daily intake, or is it a feast or famine thing? Or perhaps it is like the Energizer rechargable batteries that my husband uses in the digital camera – an every so often.

I used to run daily and would get quite cranky when anything prevented me from getting my miles. Music and mileage were musts.

I used to read books a week but wandering the Barnes and Noble last evening I wondered if I would ever need to read again the way I need to write.

Is writing a soul feasting? Not unless breathing is as well.

I thirst for time with my husband. For time on my own. Occasionally I need to interact in person with the wider world.

More to ponder than to state as absolute where my soul is concerned, I think.

But what about you gentle reader? Comments? Linkbacks?

How Far Would You Go? That’s the Hump Day Hmmm.


Hump Day Hmm topic: this is “How far would you go for your kids/family/loved one/self?” I vary the who it is because really, that’s up to you, as is the interpretation of the question. Maybe it’s 500 miles through a hot and crowded zoo. Maybe it’s a move to another country. Maybe it’s setting aside something you do. Maybe it’s a life change, such as getting sober. – Julie Pippert

How far would I go? I feel sometimes that I have already lived this particular topic to death via my blogging for all the world (that cares) to know.

I endured IVF for the sake of motherhood and my late husband.

I put my life, and my child’s, on hold to tend to a terminally ill husband.

While living through the nightmare of care-giving and widowhood, I started and finished a masters degree to ensure a secure financial future for myself and my daughter.

I took a chance on a seemingly affable and intelligent Canadian I met on a message board for widowed people. Became friends. Became more. Opened my heart and soul and believed in happily ever after again then emigrated to a foreign country, leaving behind the shell of a life for which I had worked and struggled and bled.

How far would I go? How far do I need to go to get where I am meant to be? Or to accomplish the things for myself, but more often others, that is required of this current tenure on Earth?

That’s how far.

I am not convinced that life is about us. It was Thomas Jefferson who wrote about “the pursuit of happiness” and after centuries of responsibility the human race jumped on that idea squarely with both feet. But the great religions speak only of our duties and obligations and even Buddha declined to lump enlightenment in the same category as “getting happy”.

But we are not Borg either. There is room for the individual. Perhaps part of the process of enlightenment is finding the balance in between.

How far would I go? I haven’t reached my limit as yet, so I don’t know.

What about you? What is your answer to this Wednesday’s hmmm, hmm?

Write it, prose or verse. Words or images. Here or on your own space but don’t forget to link back if you chose the latter.

all about me


Sometimes I remember that the point of this blog is me. 

Spring has finally arrived in my little acre of Canada and with it the urge to purge. In the spirit of that quaint custom known as spring cleaning, I will be engaging in a sweep of the corners of my mind and a trip or two into the depths of my soul. Things have been stirred up in the last few days. Issues that are old and no longer fit the newer, but certainly not completely improved, me.

I find my inspiration in the oddest of places. The newspaper. Upcoming anniversaries and holidays. My sadistic yoga instructor. The act of writing. Employment opportunites. Things that other people blog about. Regardless of where the impetus comes from, in the end this is about me. Try to remember that and keep up because I don’t want to have to pull over and repeat myself.