The Ponder Effect | What place feeds your soul?
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What place feeds your soul?

I am deeply thankful for the gift of place. Just as we naturally gravitate toward certain people who become our everything, we also naturally gravitate toward places that also become our everything. Whether we inherited them as children or discovered them as adults, whether we visit them often or never again, they imprint upon our soul. In this way, the exterior becomes interior, and we are connected to something that will live on well beyond us.

When you think about a place that feeds your soul, even in snippets, how do you describe it? When you scan the footage in your mind, what is it you see? When you tune in, what do you hear? Are there smells you can almost taste? Textures you can almost touch? What are the rituals that marry you to that place? Who is there with you, or are you exquisitely alone?

Can you possibly articulate what it means to you?

Share your thoughts [All posts are 100% anonymous]

3 Ponderings
  • Anonymous

    June 24, 2018 at 6:55 pm

    When I’m at the beach I feel like I can inhale and exhale more meaningfully. I often get cold chills when I reach the beach and sit back to relax.

  • Anonymous

    June 27, 2018 at 9:27 am

    When I think of my places that restore me, I think of being able to be truly unapologetically me. These are my homes. And I have many of them. Most of them are the places that I have lived. When I think of these places, they are special for the memories that I have there, the people that I have grown close to there and the space that was created there.
    I never realized what a gift space is until getting married and sharing very tiny spaces with my inlaws. When we go home to my husband’s family’s house, four adults and one infant share a bathroom, a bed, a couch and a blowup mattress. I always leave feeling a little exhausted. Don’t get me wrong: his family is wonderful. But the place that we share is challenging to feel restored and feel like my best self.
    Then again, there is a place that I grew up visiting: my friend’s lake house. It was a trailer with one bathroom. I don’t think we ever changed out of our bathing suits while we were there. And I am pretty sure that I would end up sleeping on the floor or, if I was lucky, in an arm chair. Often, there were over four adults and who knows how many teenagers, and all I remember is loving every second of it. I don’t know if it’s age that has jaded me or something else, but I think it’s pretty remarkable when someone can take a tiny space and create a place of restoration and love.

  • Anonymous

    July 2, 2018 at 1:24 pm

    Throughout my life, I have never lived in one particular house that I can think back to for all my memories. Instead, I have found homes in the places that have created the most prominent memories for me.

    The dock at the house shared by my extended family. The sunsets shared, the impromptu zumba classes joined, the twists and flips bravely conquered, the books read and even the memorial serviced held… it is a nailed pile of wood, suspended over water, that holds my heart.

    The University from which I just graduated. Yes, my professors were extraordinary and taught me how to love learning beyond grades and specific academic pursuits. But, the classroom is not what imprinted the college’s importance onto my heart. It is the love of place that is shared by all of the people that I attended classes with that bonded us together. Yesterday, I returned to campus in order to gaze across an overlook where I had hiked, rock-climbed, watched sunsets, shared kisses and shed tears over the passed four years. The feeling of familiarity conflicted with an uncomfortable displacement that ached in my heart. My love for the place is in a transition period. For four years, the campus was my true home, where I lived and laughed and loved. Now, my direct presence in the community is a memory. Soon, I will be able to walk across campus without recognizing a single soul in comparison to the constant friendly engagements I had while walking to class just two months ago. It is an interesting and depressing feeling to be aware of. I know that as my relationship with the place shifts, that does not mean it will become weaker. My angel will remain dutifully on my shoulder while I am away, awaiting the day when I return and she can fly free at the Gates.