I recently read an article by Parket J. Palmer about the soul that is born tough, but hides because it is shy. The shy soul that is silent through all intellectual debates, logical arguments and hides in an underbrush and will not come out if shout out to it.The writer compares it to a wild animal which one wishes to sight and which would typically back off.
Then he writes about a safe space that can be created for the wild soul to make an appearance, and this is where people wait through long periods of silence and create a feeling of trust.
My response to this article? My soul is not shy, but private.
How do I stay private in this very public space the earth has become? By making noise that distracts people from finding out my private thoughts. And I was taught to do this. I was expected to argue, debate, prod and shout. I do that. Now such articles and people who share it with me are telling me otherwise.
I have also tried silence to get shy persons to respond. But I find that souls are not silent just because they are shy. They are sometimes like ostriches, with their heads buried in desert sand. They do not want to be seen or heard because their minds are like vast stretches of hot sand with nothing green or pretty or cool. I find it hard to stand in such deserts and see no trace of anything alive around me. So much harder.
Then he writes about a safe space that can be created for the wild soul to make an appearance, and this is where people wait through long periods of silence and create a feeling of trust.
My response to this article? My soul is not shy, but private.
How do I stay private in this very public space the earth has become? By making noise that distracts people from finding out my private thoughts. And I was taught to do this. I was expected to argue, debate, prod and shout. I do that. Now such articles and people who share it with me are telling me otherwise.
I have also tried silence to get shy persons to respond. But I find that souls are not silent just because they are shy. They are sometimes like ostriches, with their heads buried in desert sand. They do not want to be seen or heard because their minds are like vast stretches of hot sand with nothing green or pretty or cool. I find it hard to stand in such deserts and see no trace of anything alive around me. So much harder.
