When the Soul Is Starving

My soul has been starving lately.  While my body grows and grows on the outside because I just can't seem to eat enough, my soul is anorexic.  I've been feeding the wrong part of me and it's beginning to take its toll.  Now is the time to nourish my soul before its flame is forever burned out.  To that avail . . .

I did two things I haven't done before.  Well, that's not exactly right.  I have done them - sort of, but never like this.

Friday on my drive to work, I talked to God.  I didn't bow my head and pray to some entity up in the sky.  Nope.  Instead, I just talked aloud as if the almighty deity were sitting in the seat next to me.  I wasn't demure.  I wasn't humble.  I didn't beg.  Instead, I was my true self.  Vocal and demanding as I can often be.

For some time now, I haven't known my purpose.  Why am I here?  What do I matter?  If I left this space and time today, would it matter?  I demanded to know why I exist.  I asked God to open my eyes and make my purpose crystal clear.  I didn't want to guess or speculate anymore, I wanted to know.  I don't have children.  I'm not going to have children.  I'm not helping to populate the planet.  I'm not a scientist.  I will never discover some really cool something that will benefit the whole of mankind.  I'm not an artist.  I don't create beautiful poetry or music or art that brings happiness to others.  I'm not a teacher, a preacher or prophet.  What else could my purpose be?  Some have told me that I am needed because of the work I do. . .helping poor people.  Paleezzzzzz!  Anyone - well, almost anyone, could do what I do.  There are like billions of people on the planet.  God could use any one of them to fill my position at work if I suddenly vanished into thin air.  So, if it's not to produce children, create, teach, save souls or help poor people, what could it be?  What?  I demanded to know.  And I demanded to know now.  "Don't make me wait, God," I said with as much passion as my soul could muster.

My demanding rambling went on for about 15 minutes.  When I finished, I felt. . . honestly?  Nothing.  I felt alone in my car.  I felt as if I had not been heard.  I felt foolish.  Talking to the air as I had made me question my sanity.  Yet, something inside held hope.  Hope that someone somewhere had heard my prayer.  Hope that my prayer would be answered.  I needed it to be answered.  I need to know.  Why?  Why am I here?

Within an hour, the answer walked into my office.  A person I once loved, admired, respected and trusted with my very life.  I use past tense because something in our relationship changed a few months back, and I no longer feel the way I once felt about her.  And her walking into my office?  Well, it's just not something she does anymore.  Not until Friday that is.  She walked right in.  I was shocked.  She said what she said and I said what I said and then she left.  But as she walked away, it occurred to me that God had just answered my question.  My purpose?  I am here to have relationship with others.  Little ol' me effects folks in ways I may never know. . . just as they effect me in ways they may never know.  And I'm the only one who can effect the way I do, because there is nobody else like me.  I am me.  You are you.  We are all one of a kind.  Somehow the world would be different if you or I did not have our individual effects on others.  Coincidental?  Perhaps.  But perhaps not.

Thank you, God.  Thank you for riding in the car with me last Friday.  Thank you for listening.  Thank you for answering.  My eyes are wide open and I shall look for you in all that I do.

The other thing I did?  I meditated.  I've meditated before, but never like this.  Today was different somehow.  My breathing was different, my mind was clearer, my body more relaxed, my imagery greater.  I actively participated.  And it was. . . well. . . heavenly.  I feel new.  I feel light.  I feel rested, centered and focused.  I am balanced.


I'm sorry to report that I haven't done a new interview lately.  But only because I've been standing in my own way.  Full of doubt.

I vow not to let that doubt stand in my way again.  For when I do, my soul starves.

And one more thing.  I wrote a short story today.  And then I submitted that story to NPR as a contest entry.  Win or lose, it felt amazing.  I guess good things happen when you take a moment to feed the soul.  At least that was my experience.

How 'bout you?   Do you believe you have a soul?  Do you feed your soul?  If so, in what way do you feed your soul.  Would love to hear from you!

                           
                                                                 

                                                                                                       


                                                 ~Quinn~