My soul-self

My soul-self is silent when confronted by the angst between my shoulder blades, the judgment behind my sternum and the humiliating possibilities in my belly. Who could blame it? With genuine appreciation it basks in the sunshine of my everyday attention, delighting in the perfection of every uncomfortable mirrored moment, but initially, like a hidden bush-baby that I know is in the tree during the daytime, it takes patient, peripheral attention to encourage it into awareness.

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Amy Mongie