| OUR SOULS | OUR FEATURED TOPIC
The Language of Soul by E. Johannes Soltermann At 4:30 a.m. on September 5, I was standing in Hyland Park, a vast nature preserve south of Minneapolis. In my hand, I was holding a water jug, covered with a lid. And in the jug sat a mouse. The mouse had appeared in our apartment 10 days before. All of a sudden. The first rodent intruder in the 12 years we have lived in the building. The decision was quickly made not to kill it, but to catch it alive and release it far away in beautiful nature. At first, my wife felt grossed out by the mouse's presence, but she eventually came around and named it Greta. Greta showed a great preference for my wife's Luna bars, but she displayed a clear dismay for the live traps I had purchased for good money. So we had to learn quickly what to do. I felt torn between falling in love with Greta and being mad at her because she outsmarted me every single day. The climax arrived one morning when we found her droppings and pee on top of the table -- on our most precious table cloth. I overcame my attachment to Greta and decided that today I would catch her. I remembered suddenly that months ago I had thought of getting a pet, a cat. I wanted some life in our four walls. Could this mouse be the manifestation of my wish? So here I stood, in the park before dawn, looking up to the clear, dark sky, admiring the stars. I had caught Greta after all. For her own good, I thought. I felt this tremendous love flowing through me -- as if Greta were a human being, not at all a mouse that was so lightweight that I couldn't even feel her after I had caught her in a plastic bag. I knelt down, placed the jug on its side and opened the lid. In the shine of my flashlight, I watched as Greta reluctantly walked off. "She must feel the same way I do," I thought. I felt hesitant to let her go. After she vanished out of sight, I wished her well. That she wasn't eaten too soon. That she would not feel alone. Then I cried. I lost a friend. * * * * * On May 5, 2001, in the darkness of the evening, I was walking in Woodlake Nature Center. I love to do my spiritual exercises there. For instance, whenever I feel a strong fear or concern and I have time, I might take it there. Then I slowly place one foot in front of the other, moving forward to the root cause of the issue. Once there, I relax and then dance through the park, touching leaves and grasses. That helps me connect to life and balance me. That night, I felt drawn to a particular tree. A bush, rather. It was if it had called me. I gave in and touched it with both of my hands. I started to perceive words in the inner part of me. It seemed the tree talked to me! The energy flow between us grew stronger and culminated in flashes of blue light inside my closed eyes. It was healing that the tree offered me. And to my astonishment, it seemed it was the tree that initiated the exchange. But above all, for the first time in my life, I experienced a tree as a full-blown soul -- intelligent, capable of all we humans are cable of. It must be true: As soul, we are all equal. * * * * * On March 6, 1989, I woke up in the middle of the night. From a dream. In it, a man across the table handed me a cup of tea. I drank it. To my amazement, in front of my eyes, the cup filled again. All by itself! This must have touched a chord deep within myself, because when I woke up from that experience, I sat straight up in bed and cried freely. As Soul, I understood: Mine was the water of life that never runs dry. * * * * * A thread runs through all three experiences. All three were exchanges soul to soul. First with the mouse. Then with the tree. Then with a being on the inner planes of my sleep. We shouldn't identify with our thoughts, nor with our feelings, beliefs, self-images. We are so much more than these: splendid, timeless, limitless beings, at one with every other part of creation. Experiencing that and celebrating it is the greatest happiness I know. E. Johannes Soltermann is author of the book The Gate -- A Tale for the 21st Century. He teaches a workshop at Open U in Minneapolis entitled, "You are a Book: Go Ahead and Write It!" You can reach him at (612) 338-2351. Copyright © 2001 E. Johannes Soltermann |
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