Three Things I Can't See - Chris Callaghan

What is the shape of a soul, the texture of integrity, the sound of fate? Where in my body do they live?

For some reason I’ve always thought of my soul as round. It has all the colors of a prism, yet is soft as down and smells of jasmine. It resides just beneath my breastbone next door to my heart, a true and steady chronometer of me. Like a compass that always points north, I have only to be still for a moment to feel it.

Integrity is less ethereal. A chunk of granite, painted with lichen, slippery when wet, with a deep basso profundo voice. The moisture comes from its sad eyes when I have thought to ignore its words. The lichen are scabs of healing from childish mistakes of trying to tear myself away from it. I no longer take my hands from its surface. The sun warmed rock is my strength. It’s the base of my spine.

Fate is the bubble I dance on, also round, but much bigger. Music pours from it, helping my feet to fly, and lyrics are available, some I write and some are gifts. Once in a while in my obdurate way I try to change the tune and am gently rebuked by the maestro that I do not control the orchestra. Off tune singing is not allowed and only hinders the melody.

These three things are my light, my air, my sustenance. My day job is to keep them all in balance.