One of the sweetest childhood memories was sleeping on the couch and waking up from the bed. It was all so simple back then. No complicated relationships or twisted dramas. You could run carefree in the fields to chase the dragonflies, hop to pluck the raw mangoes and stone the ripe guavas. But with time, the callowness waned and the responsibility waxed. Slowly, we became a full-fledged individual who was to be held accountable to oneself and to the world. The gravity of accountability intensified gradually such that the adulthood surmounted any remnant of childishness. Grave face and a suiting physique gave way for solemnity and soberness.
But we should admit that our soul requires the same nurturing the body receives. When we push our body beyond what it can endure, it is the soul that grieves. Yet in the mad race for wealth and power, the health of the soul is left unregarded. It bleeds and tries to heal on its own. Even before the soul is revived, new wounds are inflicted upon it. Do we really let this precious entity heal? Not often! We take it for granted because even a mutilated soul is programmed to work.
Still, the soul has an incredible regenerative capacity. Once it is left to heal, it replenishes itself with new traits. A day or two in ultimate peace give the vital sleep to the soul. Even a 20-minute deep reflection into oneself, meditating and breathing, will exhume the toxic fumes from the soul, making it prettier. It can be anywhere where you decide to format your soul. Make sure there is a personal space where you don’t have to pretend who you are but can live at least for a few minutes, the life that your soul deserves. Those few stolen moments when you are alone with your soul.