How do you Feed Your Soul?

The title of this entry came to me several days ago, and I have been mulling over what to say about it since then. But what I wanted and needed to share wasn’t as immediate as the title. Perhaps it was because I knew that my soul needed desperately to be fed, but I was not consciously sure of how to do it. (If you have read my blog before, you know that recently my dog Lucy died and I have been missing her terribly.) I have also been having disturbing dreams of loss, and feeling somewhat weepy. Losing track of time should have been a sure signal that something was really amiss, because I am always very aware of what day it is. On Thursday (which I thought was Friday), when the Santa Anas woke me with their screaming howl, I got up to check out what was going on. A couple of chairs had been blown into the pool, not to mention buckets, plastic cups that had been left on the patio, and even a pillow from the outdoor swing. The patio tent that we had erected at the beginning of the summer with Chris’ help--or more accurately-- the patio tent that he had erected with our help, was being picked up by the wind and moved toward the pool. It was already dipping one of its corner supports into the water. I quickly ran outside and tried to remedy the situation, but no dice. I needed help. Now that is one of my weak spots—asking for help. I woke Bob and he came to my aid, and when my daughter came out of the shower, she too came to see what the commotion was about. Together we moved the structure back into position, and pulled off the tent roof, which allowed the wind to blow through the structure without moving anything. In the process, I tripped over the hose, fell right onto my knee and thought I had broken all my bones. But lucky for me, my bones are good, and I was eventually able to get up. Again, the weepiness took my by surprise. I remembered dozens of skinned knees in my past that got patched up and forgotten about. It was the dream that I described to my daughter that undid me. And it was the hugs and comfort that that I received from her that started the healing process, not the Neosporin and bandages. It was the care and caring that I received from my family that started the process that would bring me back to my equilibrium. And in the midst of it all, coincidences not being accidental at all, I came across a column by Dr. Brene Brown about setting boundaries by saying no. I had overextended myself, was overtired, and as I have already established, am not so good at asking for help, even though whenever I do, people are happy to pitch in. Saying “no” when we are over extended is not a bad thing. It leaves us time to refresh so that the next time we say “yes” we are rested and ready for a new challenge. And saying yes to what we need, like a day in bed, reading a romance novel cover to cover, or in my case cutting out a new sewing project, can feed a hungry soul. I know that I am hungry for doggy kisses and hugs that will not come again, but saying yes to the other goodies that feed my soul will have to suffice for the present. Finding out now what feeds your soul—because it is different for everyone—and then actually using that information to stave off the hunger that causes your body or your unconscious to take charge and say “enough” by taking you out of the action is a lot easier on the knees. So feed your soul today and every day. Your knees will thank you for it.