Five years ago I started on a quest to find my soul because in finding my soul I knew that I would also find my brother. This quest of soul-seeking is one that I have set out on each and every day, most days it’s on my mat, others it’s on the mountain, sometimes it’s here on the keyboard. I seek those moments of complete astonishment at the beauty of Mother Earth, the vastness of her oceans, the wisdom of her mountains. I seek the safety found in a stranger’s smile, the awe of new sensations, the calmness amidst the storm. I seek the moments when the heart breaks open and the body begins to heal. In these moments I know the soul exists.
Today I send my love to my brother who I miss dearly. I would give just about anything to be hanging out on the back patio at mom and dad’s with him today, to get his advice on life, to hear his laugh, and to get one last hug. I can’t help but wonder what words of wisdom he would impart to me today, what he has learned from his own journey these past five years, what stories he would share, and if he thinks of us often.
I know that I won’t get those few hours in the backyard, that there aren’t always second chances, and that grief can last a lifetime. I find comfort knowing that my brother is free— free from ego, free from addiction—that his big heart is able to fly freely without the weight of the world. Today, tomorrow, and the next, I must continue on my quest of soul-seeking…always carrying him in my heart and trusting that love carries on from this lifetime and into the next.
I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart)- e.e. cummings
“Some Questions You Might Ask” by Mary Oliver
Is the soul solid, like iron?
Or is it tender and breakable, like
the wings of a moth in the beak of the owl?
Who has it, and who doesn’t?
I keep looking around me.
The face of the moose is as sad
as the face of Jesus.
The swan opens her white wings slowly.
In the fall, the black bear carries leaves into the darkness.
One question leads to another.
Does it have a shape? Like an iceberg?
Like the eye of a hummingbird?
Does it have one lung, like the snake and the scallop?
Why should I have it, and not the anteater
who loves her children?
Why should I have it, and not the camel?
Come to think of it, what about the maple trees?
What about the blue iris?
What about all the little stones, sitting alone in the moonlight?
What about roses, and lemons, and their shining leaves?
What about the grass?