What the Soul Wants

Photo of the author playing Cunégonde in a High School Production of Candide

Here is a story from my own life, that some of you have heard before. It is one of the stories that I still use as a touchstone today when trying to discern my path.

When I was a little girl, I wanted more than anything to get a chance to be in a musical, like the young performers in “Annie” that was so popular at the time. Singing and dancing were sources of great joy to me. I spent hours singing or dancing along with the soundtracks to musicals, and later to pop songs and operas. I was part of the drama club in high school, and those experiences, that community provided many of my best friendships and favorite experiences. When it was time to go to college, I decided to go for it- to pursue my greatest joy. The program I chose was not what I expected -- 400 young singers all grinding through a factory- like obstacle course of a program. Only grad students, special ones at that, got to be part of the opera program that had appealed to me when I chose the school.

I worked hard- really hard. My friends and I spent most of the day every day in our practice rooms. I was unhappy. I became depressed. But it was hard to know… perhaps this was just what it took to become a singer. Perhaps grinding it out and persevering would help me achieve my dreams.

One bright spot my freshman year was a class called “Women in Ancient Israel – a feminist hermeneutic of the Hebrew scriptures.” This blew my mind. I had never been in a room full of other feminist before, and I had no idea feminism had anything to say about scriptures. The research we did was challenging and engaging. At the end of the semester the professor encouraged me to submit my paper to a competition- so affirming! I wrote in my journal” I wonder if it means anything that my favorite class is “Women in Ancient Israel”

Where music had felt like a great flood of creativity and energy before, now it felt like one of those places where the creek finally fizzles out into a shallow dry place. I grew increasingly depressed, but still I persisted. I went on to graduate school, where I still never had the chance to sing any of the music I loved in the practice room, much less get on stage with the opera. Finally I had a big memory freeze during a voice jury. My advisor encouraged me to take a year off and rethink. It was devastating. But also…

What a relief it would be to finally stop pushing against the wall, to stop dragging myself down this dry path, to stop practicing every day. There was a lightness when I thought of this decision. A cascade of decisions followed- not only would I leave school, but I would stop practicing. I would just see who I was without the disciple of practicing every day. For a year I was going to just be a normal young adult- get an office job, have fun on the weekends. It quickly became clear that this was the right choice.

But after a couple years of working in office jobs, it was clear this wasn’t right either. I had gotten a decent entry level job at a company with principled values (even if I didn’t agree with all of them) and a path for advancement. I was okay at it, but my spirit was restless. I began a period of thoughtful discernment, and the light began to slowly dawn that I would like to try being a Unitarian Universalist minister.

Here's what is important to me about that story- that experience of how it feels to be trudging down that dwindling dry path. To me, this is what it sounds like when the universe is saying “you can do that if you want, you are free to choose, but that’s not where the energy of creation is flowing.”

Another touchstone moment is that voice jury where my memory failed. It was crushing, that outcome, that moment, but now I see it as one of those turning points that released me from something when I couldn’t release myself.

I think of that restless feeling I had working in that office, that suggested something more was possible.

I remember how the energy moved in me during my feminist hermeneutic class in college, I remember how it felt similar as I thought about going to seminary, how the way opened like a crack in stone through which water trickles, and opened out into a flowing stream as I moved along it. There was a sense of invitation, of a way opening as I traveled it.

I kind of thought once I had made that big decision to enter the ministry, I was done with discernment. Here’s something else I learned; discernment is not just about the big choices, this career or that one, this place to live or that one. We make big and little decisions all the time in life, for as long as we live. Even though I feel so clear ministry is the right path for me, each day I must discern step by step the path I make by walking.

I also learned that Discernment is not just about moving towards what feels good, or easy. For example, part of ministry is being with people who are struggling, being with our challenges as a community and as a world. But I notice a kind of way I feel when we know that something is the right thing to do, even when it is hard? For me there is a feeling of deep resonance, maybe it’s that voice of the genuine speaking. I sense that staying on the hard path will matter, that it will connect me to something sacred, to the deep parts of myself, to the person I most want to be.

There are lots of ways to make decisions. You can write up a pro and con list, and total them up. You can follow the crowd, the path of least resistance. Ask for advice, or experiment. Some decisions can be made quickly, lightly. If you are getting takeout and decide to choose the restaurant with the fastest service, that’s a perfectly good choice, quickly made. But some choices deserve the time and attention it takes to hear the voice of our own soul.

For me, that is a voice that is sometimes slow to speak- it requires quiet, and patience and deep listening. What do we mean by the soul? Hard to say. Perhaps it is the voice of the genuine, as Thurman suggests in his  commencement address at Spelman College. Perhaps it is the “deep wanna” that Sr. Dougherty mentions in her book Discernment: A Path to Spiritual Awakening. I imagine the soul as a place where all of ourself comes together -- heart, mind, body—and where we connect with that which is greater than ourselves, be that the web of life, community, or the divine. These parts of ourselves don’t always agree. Like any group trying to make a decision together, you can go follow the loudest most insistent voice- I’m hungry let’s eat! But one way to think of discernment is taking the time to hear from each part of our self, and for those parts to come to some harmonious consensus.

The danger in sharing my story, is that others will apply that model to themselves. For example, I have a friend who says she is “addicted to drama” and so for her, sometimes events sweep her up in a compelling way, even though when she can really check in with her soul, she notices these seemingly important events were just a distraction. That metaphor I use about the flow of energy that is helpful to me might send her down the wrong path.

So let’s take a moment here and invite each of us to consider Thurman’s question “How does the sound of the genuine come through to you?” to discern, “when in my life have made a choice by listening to the deep wisdom of my own soul? As I remember such a time, what did it feel like, what has discernment looked like for me in my own story?”

I wonder what questions are important to your soul right now? Some big questions that came up for me as I approached the 25th anniversary of my ordination, which we celebrated last night. I am no longer the 28 year old who was ordained back in California-- who am I now? Does what I do matter? How does it matter?

I’ve found that even finding the right question requires discernment. Sometimes being able to frame the question so it feels just right opens the door to an answer, to a new path. Sometimes the question starts out as a wordless restlessness in my spirit, I don’t know what it’s about, but I begin by asking “What do I want? What do I really want?” I ask and ask, until the inquiry feels complete.

We are very theologically diverse here. Those of us who have a prayer practice, or who are prayer curious, we might invite the divine into our discernment, might bring the question into our prayer practice.

For those of us who are atheists, or for whom that doesn’t feel authentic, we can pose our question to our own souls, or our own Psyche, our own deep wisdom

I invite you to take another pause to ask ourselves “what is it my soul wants now?” or whatever question feels like your question of this moment.

Discernment is not just a single choice once made, it is a way of involving our deepest self, or connecting to what is larger than ourselves, as we find our way through our life’s journey. If we want to have a soul-oriented life, it will necessarily involve taking time to listen to the soul. And like any rich deep practice it takes time to hone and develop. At this time when so much is changing, I encourage each of us to ask what it is our soul most wants, and to bring the quality of discernment to questions big and small along our journeys.