Some days the creative practice becomes stalemated. Recently, I had such a day. I warmed up for a writing session with journaling and devotions. From there, I turned to the blank page and willed new content to come through me to the page. I started by writing down the date, hoping the muscle memory from drawing my pen across the page would transition into a starting word or sentence. Nothing.
Knowing I have limited time to spend staring into space, I reached into my tried-and-true writing bag of tricks. I scanned my office and pulled out “Writing the Sacred Journey,” by Elizabeth Jarrett Andrew. I picked up where I left off, scanning a few pages then resting upon this prompt: “What role does this tension play in your soul’s journey.”
Soul’s Journey.
To think of my soul as having traveled with me through all the places. Places I grew when I was a child. Places I learned as an adolescent and throughout adulthood. Places I traveled. Places I loved. Places I prayed. Places that scared me. Places that confused me. So many places. Some traveled alone, others with companionship. People I met. Interactions we had.
Always though, there is my soul, on this journey with me as its guide. My poor soul tags along like a shadow, sometimes crouched behind me, sometimes tall and bold before me. This thinking about the travels of my soul ultimately landed on the word: mercy.
I thought about how, at times, I am unable or unwilling to care for my soul, I lead it astray. Each time, I am met with mercy. Mercy brings me back to the light. Mercy brings me back to a time of nourishment and respite. Mercy gives me life.
My soul’s journey rests in faith.
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