I’ve been told that I can be a prophet.
Prophet. The word looks regal and sizzles with purpose on the page. The word carries centuries of history with it. It sounds profound when spoken from one’s mouth. The dictionary and Google define “prophet” as “a person who speaks for God.” There are other definitions that share similar ideas of its meaning.
I am not a prophet. I do not speak for God. I am just one person. I am a person with many judgments, challenges, and human-willed ideas of how things should be. I interpret and therefore misinterpret what others think of me, what they say, and how they feel (both generally and how they feel about me).
I am a person with a stubborn mind and a fragile heart. My mind assumes the worst and over analyzes everything. My heart gets wounded easily and then broods in its woundedness. It licks its wounds like a cat and foolishly attempts to nurse itself back to an unfeeling state. My heart tries to erase what it naturally does. And this is how I trained myself to be a human-doing. I am not a prophet.
But what about my soul? My soul…my soul is the prophet.
When nurtured and carefully cared for my soul lives to tell stories, dance vigorously, and show up with all of its bright brilliant colors.
Although I tried to bury my soul. I tried to hide it and erase all my feelings. My soul is strong. Every day it rises from the dust of dirty self-destructive habits to remind me to breathe, love more, and to wake up. It reminds me of all the reasons why it’s important to stay awake. My soul reminds me why I want to stay sharp and why I must always pay attention. From all the destruction, some days my soul is only as bright as a small ember, but sometimes that’s enough in the moment.
My soul is the prophet. As it rises from the dust and glows warmly I am always surprised by how much wisdom and elegance it shares. I stand back with the rest of the crowd and with the rest of the world at what was just created. The crowd marvels at the glowing, brightly colored, well articulated creation that lays before them and I do too.
This creation was not designed by me, the person. It was crafted by Soul. It was loved into existence like a brand new baby. This work was then protected, held, and educated. Each phase of this creation brought in a new color until this precious creation was full of all it can be and all it will be. Then it was set free to humbly sparkle in front of the crowd and share messages with the world.
I take no credit. There is no ball in my court. I have no authority. I am only one human of many. I am as in awe as you. My soul is the prophet.
Photo credit: Ruby Ackermann