Earlier this year I had a lot to get off my chest. Like literally...two big patches of faulty heart cells and many thoughts/words/discoveries that needed to be burned away like messy, disruptive karma. Now there is a little extra space where there once was constriction both physically and emotionally. I am doing my best to not only keep that space open but to expand it by filling it with soul-worthy material. I'm in a place of receiving rather than giving. Listening rather than speaking. Introspection rather than extroversion.
I've been filling my space with amazing books. The crazy thing about reading a truly great book is that it colors every aspect of your life for the duration of time that it inhabits your life. You experience your world through the lens of the subject matter, author, or characters of your reading material. Rediscovering my love of reading has been nothing short of an epiphany and a blessing.
Sometimes a book can just smack you in your face with your own reality. From "Women Who Run With the Wolves" by Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Ph.D.:
"After a period of practice, the cumulative effect of intentional solitude begins to act like a vital respiratory system, a
natural rhythm of adding knowledge, making minute adjustments, and deleting the unusable over and over again.
It is not only potent but pragmatic, for solitude lives low on the food chain; though it costs something in intention
and follow-through, it can be done at any time, in any place. Over time, as you practice, you will find yourself
designing your own queries to soul. Sometimes you may have only one question. Other times you may have none
whatsoever and just wish to rest on the rock near the soul, breathing together."
I'll just let that marinate a bit.