My soul speaks today. My soul seems to live in the realm of my imagination, expressing itself like a poem or collage, with words, images and feeling not restrained by cogent thought or sequence. It is as though there is a well spring of richness below the surface of awareness, and this is expressed in unanticipated ways. One thing I have noticed about my soul recently – but I am sure this has always been true – is that my soul is not dedicated to perfection, as my more egocentric and rational mind are. Today I muse about this imperfection, though sometimes I don’t think it is so funny. Just as the Navajo weave imperfections into their rugs so the spirit can enter and exit, my soul makes way for little imperfections to freely pop up to remind me of my soul’s penchant for spirit-filled playfulness, nudging me to let go of my ego's need for perfection.
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