| OUR SOULS | OUR FEATURED TOPIC
Walk your path with intention -- and with honesty, joy From the Editor by Tim Miejan I must confess to you on this cold, sunny morning that I've not been in touch with my soul lately. That sounds strange, having just written it, because I instinctively know that my soul is contained within this body of mine -- and it hasn't gone anywhere. But seemingly, I have. I go through periods of time in my life when I yearn for the mundane, the so-called normal activities of life like taking my dog for a walk and chatting with neighbors about the weather as we pass them by. Or simply going grocery shopping and overhearing two older men comparing Osama bin Laden to Hitler and deciding the bearded one looks much more clerical and less evil than the one with the closely cropped mustache and piercing stare. It's a time when doing the ordinary chores of living, like washing the clothes and painting the long-neglected walls of our bedroom, don't seem so ordinary. They seem alive, and sometimes it just feels so good to take care of business. I look off to the side of my desk at a growing pile of books on the soul, on healing, on love, on energy, on color therapy, on water therapy, on wellness, on the new paradigm...I could go on and on...and I wonder why I haven't read them lately. It's even been a while since I've been to church on Sunday, and I wonder why I haven't been there lately. If I choose to, I could allow the guilt to flow and the anxiety to fill me with apprehension and fear. I choose not to. Yes, it seems on the outside that I may have lost a connection with my soul. But on the inside, it seems like I may be more connected with it than ever. I don't think one can judge a soul connection by looking on the outside. And I don't think one can judge the spirituality of another human being by looking at his or her appearance or living conditions. This summer I visited the Pine Ridge Reservation for the first time in my life. I had grown up in Norfolk, Nebraska, not far from the South Dakota border, but had never ventured into Indian Country. I had only imagined it from the books I had read and the movies I had seen. While in high school, one of my favorite books was Black Elk Speaks, a white poet's conversations with a holy man from the Oglala tribe of the Lakota nation, circa 1932. In the book, Black Elk describes a vision he received from Spirit at the age of 9. He was shown that the center of the universe is everywhere and that everything is sacred. He saw the oneness of humanity. Not long ago, I drove through Manderson, S.D., not far from where Black Elk grew up and saw the non-descript prairie, the small towns filled with box-like homes that all look alike. I saw rusty cars and crows picking from the trash along the highway. All was just as I had expected. Sacred. Remember the film Thunderheart? An elderly Indian man lives in apparent squalor, smoking cigarettes and watching cartoons on small black-and-white TVs, yet this is the medicine men and wise elder who listens to Spirit -- perhaps more carefully than any preacher wearing an expensive suit, standing in front of a wealthy congregation in surburbia. Don't let outward appearances distort the truth of what you are seeing. For me, that applies to everyday-life kind of things. I look outside my window and see a neighbor walking slowly down the sidewalk. I can think, "Oh, what a sorry old man who is moving so slowly, perhaps in pain, perhaps dreading what tomorrow will bring." Or I can perceive him as a wise elder who is taking each step deliberately, breathing and connecting with the Earth with intention. What is the point of going through the motion of being spiritual -- with the books, the videos, the conferences and the workshops -- when the process of doing these things does not bring you joy? There truly can be joy derived from any and all of these activities, but we each have a path on which we are walking, and none of us takes the same steps as anyone else. So I'm not reading a new book about awakening my heart in synchronicity with the new paradigm, but instead open up Tim Gautreaux's novel, The Next Step in the Dance. So I'm not watching a repeated broadcast of Joseph Campbell's phenomenal series on PBS, but instead I turn to Law & Order's Criminal Intent on a Sunday night. What is, is. Walk your path in joy. Let what you choose be sacred. Tim Miejan is editor of The EDGE. Contact him at (651) 578-8969 or e-mail editor@edgenews.com Copyright © 2001 Tim Miejan |
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