This is inspired by week two of A Year With Myself. Leonie Dawson asks have we found our soul’s compass yet.
Once upon a time I had a compass. It looked like this.
It was a tool, a geologists compass. Not only did it help to locate me, it also allowed me to make maps, to reveal features that the eye couldn’t see in the landscape. It helped illuminate the enormous forces that shaped whatever piece of land I was on (or in). I was amazed by it, but also a little overwhelmed.
And in a very uncharacteristic way I dropped out of that life and into another.
Now in some ways I am more sure than ever of what my compass points. It has three arms that point to my family, noting their whereabouts, plotting their course and anticipating their needs.
But that points to others and not to me.
That is a tricky one. Between worlds and cultures, isolated by location, I’m not quite sure what I revolve around. As a result my course is erratic, a series of projects started but not finished, an ambition that has yet to find it’s focus, a procrastinator in a sea of excuses.
What would the 80-year-old me say? I hope she’d be consoling, tell me to be patient, to keep trying, to finish. I think that would be goddess-like, take the time to find your strengths then let them loose. Don’t rush in, time will tell.
This is a year of experiment so expect to see some unexpected avenues explored and some dead-ends too. Don’t be afraid to comment, any input is gratefully received.