Light inside

The soul, like Dante in the woods, is always losing its way. It obsesses and broods. Like Proust, it is drawn back and back into a childhood still vivid and full of causes.

It is with our souls that we truly inhabit our lives, tasting fresh black coffee, so delicious, so bad for us, and the kiss, brief and full of consequences. The soul is always learning, always fallible. It develops well or ill. It grows and deepens and responds to our late-learned tenderness toward it. Through soul we bless our lives and come to love them in all their moods and aspect. It is always trying to embrace things, to inhabit the brokenness of the world. Its light is made real by the surrounding dark. Its bounty earned by a perilous journey.

~ by Natalie on 21 March.