My most prized possession is my soul.
Nothing more. Nothing less. Any form, any material doesn't come close to that inner unknown thing we don't know what to call so we use the ambiguous 'soul' to describe it. Some call it 'the subconscious.' Others ironically call it 'consciousness.' Whatever you may call it... for me, it is the part of me that dreams at night. That dreams so vividly that I wake up thinking my dream life is when I am most alive. When my soul is most alive. Waking up to the real world often feels like going to sleep. Because my soul is mostly asleep in those boring mundane tasks of living as a human. Running errands. Doing work. Only in the rare moments of creative flow my soul kicks in. Or in other altered states scenarios. My soul aches for them. It gets sleepy with the stability of the mundane. It wakes up through risk, through discomfort, through play, through exploration. My soul is a player. A musician, an artist, a dancer. It is an astronaut exploring space for the first time. It is a poet using its voice. It's a painter painting colors that have never existed before. It's my imagination. It's my creativity. It's everything. My soul is my most prized possession.
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AuthorIn April 2020, while experiencing her first ever global pandemic, Tamar Pelzig pledged to write something every day, even if it's only a word, so she welcomed to the world a daily blog to keep her creative writing wheels rolling. Categories
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Header Art: Daniel Landerman |
Photos used under Creative Commons from chocolatedazzles, Jocelyn777 Love Europe, ONE-MILLION