A few years ago, after some very tough times, she turned to the mandolin after flirting with the idea of playing it for some time.
She bought this beautiful instrument, attended music lessons, went to music camps. And brought the mandolin very fully into her everyday life.
She fell in love with the music and really, more than fell in love. It became an integral part of her life, part of her soul medicine, part of her daily joy.
She had a mandolin-shaped hole missing from her life, and she filled it.
I share this with you because, with only 10 days left in the calendar year and in this decade of the 2010’s, I’ve been reflecting on her and her mandolin, on the joy she now has from having filled that particular hole in her life, and what this may mean for me, for my loved ones, and for my clients.
I wonder what it would feel like if, in 2020, we got more curious about the shape of things missing from our lives and made movements toward them and what the impact on our souls might be.
If you’d like to join me in being curious about the shape of things missing from your own life, what your soul is longing for, please join me in today’s post where I elaborate on this and provide some gentle prompts to help you inquire about this alongside me.
What’s the shape of missing things in your life?
“When you recover or discover something that nourishes your soul and brings joy, care enough about yourself to make room for it in your life.” – Jean Shinoda Bolen, MD
Let me ask you: what’s the shape of missing things in your life?
Is it a mandolin-shaped hole? A potluck-around-the-kitchen-table shaped hole? A passport-shaped hole?
It is a missing piece the size of a cozy cottage to call home?
Is it the exact dimensions of a rising and falling chest on the other half of the bed?
Is it one big hole? Or several little holes?
Or – and this is important – are there pieces, perhaps, to be removed? Ways in which you need to actually make more holes in your life.
Does the shape of the missing thing from your life resemble peace, safety, rest?
And if it does, what other proverbial puzzle pieces might need to be removed to help you have that other thing?
Would it look like removing contact with someone or someones?
Might it look like leaving a lucrative but soul-deadening career?
Could it, would it, possibly look like leaving old parts of you behind – the part that’s so concerned with what other people think, the part of you that always thought you would be a lawyer?
