Originally posted on Amani Resources website, February 5, 2013
I am a child of science and mathematics, intellect and theory. I was not raised on talk of intuition, emotional awareness or SpiritSpeak. And so, I grew up centered in my left brain – the site of sequential reasoning. My right brain — where intuition and emotion reside — was often underused and undervalued. I was a speaker and thinker, who eventually learned to listen to the wisdom within. This Soul Story shares how I began to live from my head and my heart, and find peaceful guidance in the balance. Enjoy. — Panya
Soul Story: The Wistom Within
By Tasneem Grace Tewogbola
The Earth circles the sun 20 times before she unpacks her sack.
She is halfway to a college degree when she yanks the straps from stress-tight shoulders and unloads emotions that are heavy as stone.
Sweating, flexing her spine, she stares at the rubble at her feet.
Amazing, she marvels, so much feeling buried beneath mounds of good.
She is a good daughter. A good sister. A good grandchild.
She is good in math and good in science.
She is a good writer, a good test-taker, a good student, a thinker.
But she is a feeler, too, although there are no awards or accolades to prove it.
She is the kid eager to give money to hungry folks on the street.
She is the girl who whines to give her scarf to warm a stranger’s neck.
She is that kid, the one with the wide open heart who laughs loud and cries easy.
Sensitive, she is called. The word stings like a slur so she learns quick to dry her eyes and conceal compassion.
Smart, she is labeled. The word shimmers like a star so she learns quick to oil her mind and reveal intelligence.
She is the daughter of renegade artists, the grandchild of a chemist, a scholar of stiff sciences.
She knows Pythagorean’s Theorem and Newton’s Law.
She knows hypotenuse and hypothesis.
She knows of intellect, the science of the mind.
She knows less of intuition, the science of the soul.
But Spirit beckons without invitation and so her back, and her head, and her heart begin to ache.
Her knees throb from the weight of unexamined emotion.
Her thinking shifts from the serious left to the spiritual right.
It is time, she knows, to unpack her sack and lighten her load.
She tugs the bag open and, one by one, unfocused feelings roll out like loose rock: empathy, compassion, desire, creativity, audacity.
Anxiety and doubt tumble out, too.
She is tempted to micromanage the mess, to do damage control
but Spirit sits her down and slows her roll.
Wisdom tickles her ears.
She waits, meditates and begins to balance all her aptitudes and inclinations into piles.
She couples silly with serious.
Trust with curiosity.
Ambiguity with clarity.
Investigation with imagination.
Impulse with intuition.
She is a scientific seeker, a spirited thinker, she is left-brained and she’s right.
In time, her sack empties and, spine-straight, she glides.
She reclaims her sensitivity. Calls it sweetness, instead.
She reclaims her tears. Calls them sweetwater, instead.
She decides she has too many curves, and is much too beautiful, to fit, all snug and dissatisfied, in a square peg.
So she stops trying to fit and feels just fine, instead.
Worry fades. Doubt dims. Faith builds from within.
She speaks of prophecy and paradox, of metaphor and miracles
Lessons in divine arithmetic rise at dawn: Submission and trust with a loss of control equals infinite gratitude and immeasurable ease.
It is the best math she has ever mastered.
She is a smart woman made smarter, calmer, better by the Wisdom Within
Now, she strolls when she walks
She sees song in silence
She tastes music in words
She feels peace in quiet
Often she sits, poised like a queen
Shoulders lifted, chin up
Her feet kiss the floor
Her fingers, spread wide like palm leaves, rest on her knees
Eyes wide shut, she murmurs
“Give me a minute.” Hush.
In the stillness, between slow drags of oxygen, the whispers come, serene as bliss, quick as blinks
In the orbit of her third eye
It takes flight
circles the sun
It grows as she grows