Do you ever picture your soul, living, in a place?
Where it breathes unrestricted.
Where it is connected to everything that empowers it, emboldens it, enlivens it. Though it is not attached to anything.
I picture my soul.
It’s a picture of freedom. Free from restraints. Unencumbered by the burden of expectation yet buoyed by the liberty and ability to exist in purity and spirituality. Responsibility is not a heavy word any longer.
And odd as it may sound. I picture the freedom of my soul roaming about in a wool sweater, surrounded by the ethereal words and harmony of poetic energy, the ocean air washes over a never sullied existence, the grey stone paves ways and builds castles and cottages of comfort and creativity. And always the music of it’s spoken language with an intonation of an Irish melody.