‘Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all’ ~ Emily Dickinson
Like everyone else, I’m now stuck at home and instead of writing my assignment or working on my book, I’m musing and writing this blog post. Maybe it’s my soul’s voice demanding expression. And if ever there was a time to realise the truth of the soul, it would be now. It is devastating that our current age mostly dismisses its reality, caught in the dominant worldview of materialism that says such a thing is merely an illusion or a function of the brain. It’s invisible and generally, modern people have little time for it, too busy looking outwards and distracted by the complexity of their lives, most especially during a crisis that sends us into a tailspin of panic. And today’s crisis is a tragedy. Which perhaps makes it the right time to reflect and shine a light on our enigmatic inner world that remains such a mystery.
It seems the simplest yet hardest thing to realise, something that speaks to us daily through dreams and intuitions, through art, music, poetry, philosophy, psychology, religion and nature, all things dismissed as irrelevant by modern, capitalist societies. But perhaps not. One thing I’ve been struck by during the past few days, is how much people are longing to read poetry or be outside in nature, now curtailed by the need to stay at home.
But who hasn’t had a dream that has left them shattered the next morning? Who hasn’t had an intuition that told them something was wrong? Where do such things come from? Most assume they come from the unconscious, but what is that? Is it in the mind? Is it in the body? It could be argued that it is the body that contains all our natural intelligence. After all, it is responsible for beating our heart, for releasing our hormones and keeping us in optimal homeostasis, all important things our surface consciousness pays little heed to until something goes wrong. It is not the ego that decides to grow our hair or work our thyroid gland or digestive system. I can’t recall ever having to puzzle how to do those things.
So why is it we decide to run our lives solely from that restricted ego mind? Is it not too narrow? Is it not too limited by the number of concepts we can understand and handle? Our ideas of ourselves tend to make us feel average or bad or very good and noble, but they’re all essentially surface ideas which barely touches on the reality of who we truly are. Do mere words make a difference? Does the word ‘love’ express anything of the emotion it’s meant to signify?
If we do happen to look deep and long enough, we may discover that we are being guided instead by a wholly autonomous action that doesn’t come from the conscious mind at all, despite how it might feel. It is independent of our will and acts as the voice of nature whispering to us through our quieter moments. It is the stuff of the world connecting us to everything, inspiring unity and yet, unique to all of us, giving us life, purpose and meaning. This isn’t conjecture or opinion; it is a fact that has been experienced by many people throughout the ages. Can they all be wrong? Perhaps not and perhaps listening to the voice of the soul is the very thing that helps keep us healthy. The world has tipped out of balance and every day it’s sending us a message.