I am exploring the realm of the soul these days, supporting people who want to reconnect with their soul. I’ve been stunned by how many people carry an instinctive recognition of their soul, in their bodies, and in the intuitive intelligence of their heart. Vonna, a friend of mine says, “Soul is certainly a mystery to me. I have no conceptual definition of it that satisfies—but I feel it viscerally, in the body, in a powerful way. It’s an unknown known.”
Almost everyone who has responded to the call of this work has spoken to me of their anxiety. “I’m afraid, if I really connect with my soul,” a woman said to me recently, “that it will shake up my whole life.” I think this is actually a very real possibility, one that we feel deep in our heart and in our belly. Our life, when it is disconnected from the soul, doesn’t fit us—it’s like wearing a shirt that is three sizes too small. We are afraid of that bigger, wilder, more truthful life, and we long for it at the same time. We are starving for it.
What blocks my connection with the soul is the whole tapestry of my conditioning—the ‘middle world’ as it is sometimes called. This is the domain of my social network, my ancestry, my attachments and aversions, my entanglements with people, belief structures, negative feelings, and old ways of being. This is the place where I cling for dear life to what feels comfortable and easy, and numb myself out so I don’t have to feel all the experiences I am avoiding. The soul has a gift to offer, into this world, through me. It wants to give fully, to really show up, to boldly offer whatever this is. It’s ready to cut through all the layers of conditioning, all of the obstacles that are blocking this movement, this flow of generosity, freedom and courage.
I am aware of a collective awakening right now—the soul is on the move. More and more people are ready to make contact with this deep part of themselves; they don’t want to compromise any more. They are no longer content to live on the surface of their lives, serving some agenda that is not connected with the depths of their being. They are ready to move forward, into a life that is true and alive, not very cozy and comfortable. This can be very disturbing to our egoic mind. The soul, however, is awake to the fact, “that life doesn’t give a rat’s ass about how comfortable you are.” *
Obviously life does not care. Whenever things feel like they are getting too intense for me, I remember Nelson Mandela. Since his death, I feel an even deeper connection with his soul. I try to imagine what it was like for him to wake up every day in prison, year after year after year. This brings my own discomfort back into perspective.
I feel like I am walking through each day with a rose and a sword, in order to stay in alignment with my soul. The rose is the power of love, the deep redeeming love that softens and dissolves all of the hard places inside me. It washes away the pain and heartbreak of the past, and lets me see the radiant truth at the heart of everything. It pours down into me like soft rain, like light, when I am open and ready to receive it. It’s real, not a new age fantasy. It’s more real than most of what I believe in.
For most of my life, all I wanted was the rose. But then I discovered that we need them both. The sword is not separate from the love and compassion, but it has a different energy. It is a fierce clarity, that is not afraid to cut through obstacles, to say ‘enough!’ to stand up for what is true. There is a depth of commitment and follow-through that comes with the sword. Without it the rose starts to fade away.
The sword is not about attacking anyone. The sacred power of the sword is what allows me to stand for the truth, for what really matters to me. My loyalties to being approved of, to fitting in, to creating no waves, are what stand between me and the integrity of my soul. I need the sword to free me from these cords, these strong and sticky threads of attachment.
I need the sword to cut through all of my ideas of who I am, and of how I should be. So I can lay them down, again and again, and discover what is here, in this moment, before I make up a story about it.
Our stories of why we cannot live the truth of who we really are, why we cannot embody the love of our soul, are very old, and they hold a great deal of power. We should not underestimate their power.
When we are brave enough to face this, to feel how long we have been entranced by these stories, we’ll be able to take some first, trembling steps forward. We will be humble enough to keep watering this rose with our love, and sharpening the sword with our fierce clarity.
Maybe then, our soul will stand up and clap its hands for joy.
with love
Shayla
*Rob McNamara, an integral coach and teacher
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