Somewhere, deep down inside all of us, is the little tiny seed of who we are at the very core… the seed of our soul that can grow into many different things. It’s a powerful thing. I have, in fact, had to replant mine a couple of times. Magic of the matter is that it will grow anywhere. Danger of the matter is that you need to be cautious where you plant it. Beauty of the matter is that you get to choose which parts of the soil and environment actually influence it, and which have no effect on it, as long as you’re actually raising it like a crop. Without caution and grooming, it can grow like a weed…
I bought these dolls to use as props for a story (babbling lecture, by my kids’ description) that I wanted to tell my youngest. She’s an amazing young lady, and my cautions these days are probably overkill. Still, when I have something to say, I don’t hold back. They’re Russian nesting dolls. In the teeny tiny center lies a little wooden doll. Akin to a human, this would be the seed of your soul, or at least for the purposes of this story, we’ll pretend that it is such.
The amazing thing about the seed of a soul is that it’s much like DNA… it holds all the building blocks that you need in order to create life, or in the human case, to create a person. If you’ll humor me and play along, we’ll pretend that this tiny thumbnail of a wooden doll is your soul’s seed. We’re going to watch it grow up.
The first layer that grows around it is more or less a consequence of its surroundings. You’re a baby and you were born wherever you were born, without much ability to influence this layer.
With the next layer comes toddlerhood, and still with little ability to control the layers, that seed of your soul is inside you impacting everything that’s happened since birth.
As you grow up, a time will come where you get to choose what your next layer will wear, regardless of your parents’ influence or wishes.
All too often during childhood, some of those layers get beat up and banged around pretty badly. Some people wear those damaged layers long into adulthood, claiming that there’s nothing they can do about it because those layers were damaged as children. While it’s true that children rarely damage their own shells, the truth about adults is that they have a choice. They can go back and shed the damaged layers, celebrate the amazing skins, decide what their next layer will be, or any combination thereof.
Through it all, the key is that seed at the center. From it, everything else sprouts, and as adults we have the ability to go back and reclaim old layers we mistakenly shed, create our next layers in any way we choose for them to be, or pick and choose bits and pieces of them all. The seed of our soul will support our choices. Never forget that they’re choices.
I have replanted the seed of my own soul a number of times throughout my own life. I keep the one with the scar across my jugular, because some dents and dings are critically important to keep around as reminders. Others might choose to shed that kind of layer because it’s ugly, or carries too many bad memories. I choose to wear it as a medal, and celebrate my survival of a mortal injury. You wouldn’t be wrong to choose differently than me, and I’m not wrong for choosing the keepsakes my soul is proud of. Did I mention that it’s all about choice?
I wanted to write this story because I enjoyed telling it. Sometimes, even an old soul like me needs a good reminder of what’s important and what isn’t, what we have to carry and what we can choose to shed. I hope that my young’ns can see it this way as well. They don’t just have some influence upon where their souls are headed in life… they are at ages where it is entirely their choice what they get to become, what they choose to go back and reclaim from the years where they had no choice, and/or if they choose to completely replant and start anew. I suppose that I am essentially a tractor at this point. I’ll cultivate whatever choices they make, and I’m fortunate that they both have green thumbs.
At the end of this video, the nesting dolls become a beautiful woman. In life, the end only comes once it’s all said and done, and there’s no way to plan for when that might be. It is, however, entirely up to the person to decide what and who that person will be. Circumstances and onlookers may throw rocks or apply shiny coatings… but the soul inside decides what it will be. No one else.
If I didn’t have that scar across my jugular, I wouldn’t be able to see this scenario as clearly as I do. I suppose it’s a good thing I kept that layer, dings and dents and all. I’m a very fortunate tractor in that my kids will undoubtedly choose wisely for their own souls as well, even if all I can do nowadays is skip the rows that shouldn’t be cultivated while also carefully tending to the lush greenery that grows bountifully.
Cheers from the Uncommonly Souls