It’s not a secret that society focuses on outward appearances. A person’s beauty is more likely determined by the length of their eyelashes than the depth of their personality, their dreams or the way that they always smile. While TV commercials will ask you to diminish the bags under your eyes or to defrizz your hair they are only asking you to examine the you that lingers in front of the mirror, not the you that lies beneath the surface. Who are you when the lights are off or when you are alone in your room? What matters in your life when you strip away the all of the superficiality and focus on your feelings, actions and fears?
What does your soul look like?
My soul looks like a heavy forest in the Washington fall. Mist clings to every branch. Leaves are turning a shade of crimson or gold. Hiking boots sink into mud with every step. It smells like humidity and pine.
My soul looks like the street I grew up on, when the sun is setting and the streetlights come on. The familiar sting of gravel beneath bare feet and the blades of grass tickling my toes. Seeing the stars scattered across the sky if I squint a little. Like being home.
My soul looks like the ocean waters on a misty Sunday morning. Dew drops clinging to locks of blonde hair. Toe numbing tides and washed up sand dollars. Like abandoned sandcastles.
My soul looks like my tanned body floating on an inflatable in the middle of an algae filled lake. The smell of spf 55 and boat fumes. Pruney fingertips and too sweet lemonade sipped from icy glasses. Like the feeling of simpler times.