Soul Food: 101 Inspirational Messages To Nourish And Heal Your Spirit

By Liberty Forrest

This book is filled with short pieces that cover a wide range of topics, such as forgiveness, grief, hope, staying positive, finding strength, letting go, and difficult relationships.

There are also humorous, playful entries, as liberty's childlike spirit brings out the kid in everyone.

Growing up in an abusive environment sent liberty down a very turbulent path, but ultimately, it was one that led to great healing. After studying social work as a single parent, she spent several years as a counsellor, later becoming a homeopath and enjoying yet another way to relieve suffering in others.

Using both her personal and professional experience, liberty has her own special way of inspiring, empowering and encouraging those who are troubled, and helping them find peace and healing.

Open this book to any page and feel better for having read an entry or two in just a few minutes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Liberty Forrest
• Release date: Dec 12, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301794164

Liberty Forrest

liberty forrest is a quirky, hyperactive author who shares her unusual perspectives on surviving Life with anyone who will listen, and who spells her name in lower case for a reason. She has written several books and also has created various guided meditation and hypnosis CDs, covering a variety of healing and inspirational topics.

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What people are saying about

Soul Food: 101 Inspirational Messages

to Nourish and Heal Your Spirit

Insightful, intuitive, instinctive, introspective - and always interesting!

-- Tony Smith (Northamptonshire Evening Telegraph)

I'll bet you already know what liberty says here. Thing is, you won't realize it until you read this. 'Interesting' is quite an understatement.

-- Sreedharan Shah, Kerala, India

Reading liberty's inspirational writing is like having my own personal rainbow delivered to me every time.

-- Debra Carney, Florida, USA

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Please note: As I have dual nationality, spellings are mainly British, but there may be inconsistencies, as I am also Canadian.

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This book is designed to provide information and motivation to its readers. It is sold with the understanding that neither the author nor the publisher is engaged to render any type of psychological, legal or any other kind of professional advice. Every effort has been taken to ensure that the information contained in this book is accurate and balanced. Conclusions reached have been based on the personal and professional experience of the author.

Neither the publisher nor the author shall be liable for any physical, psychological, emotional, financial, or commercial damages, including, but not limited to, special, incidental, consequential or other damages. Our views and rights are the same: You are responsible or your own choices, actions and results.

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Soul Food - 101 Inspirational Thoughts

to Nourish and Heal Your Spirit

by liberty forrest

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012 liberty forrest

Discover other titles by liberty forrest:

http:/www.smashwords.com/profile/view/libertyforrest

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TABLE OF CONTENTS (by sections)

Chapter 1 - Inspiration

Chapter 2 - Choice

Chapter 3 - Fear

Chapter 4 - Self-Love

Chapter 5 - Letting Go

Chapter 6 - Change

Chapter 7 - Childhood Innocence

Chapter 8 - Perspective

Chapter 9 - Others

Chapter 10 - Motivation

Chapter 11 - Gratitude

About the Author

Connect with the Author

Other Books by the Author

Index

INTRODUCTION

What you are about to read originated as posts on my daily inspirational blog. For purposes of this book, I have altered or expanded upon many of the entries. As they have been rearranged into categories, they are out of sequence and therefore, so are occasional references to holidays, seasons and so on.

Almost all of the entries were written whilst I was living in England, and before circumstances forced me to move back to Calgary, in Western Canada.

Chapter 1 - INSPIRATION

1. Waiting for the ripples to reach the shore...

Recently, a very dear friend was confiding in me. After a tremendous shock some months ago that left her reeling, she's been having a pretty bumpy time. She's been feeling stuck. Very, very stuck, and wondering if she'll ever see the light at the end of the tunnel (when it's not the train coming at her).

One of the most difficult bits of her troubles has been that she's had no control over the situation. Her life blew up and there she stood, holding the charred scraps of it in scorched hands and wondering what on earth to do now. It's bad enough when Life lobs stuff at us that we can fix - even if it's going to take a while. But what do you do when it's completely out of your hands?

You wait. You feel powerless. Helpless. It's agonising. But it's all you can do, so you wait.

I've certainly been where my friend is - well, in general terms, of course, because we can never really know exactly what someone else's experience is. And I'm sure you've been there, too. I told my friend I understood how she's feeling, explaining that it's as though your life's been ticking along, like a little pond with its smooth bits and its ripply bits, the odd strong wind whipping up a bit of a wave here and there. But the storms pass and the surface of the water calms as it seeks to find its level, and balance is restored.

And then one day, something tears into your life like a meteorite thundering through the heavens and crashing into that lake, causing an almighty disturbance. The enormous splash creates violent waves that scatter and unsettle everything in their path.

But soon the shock passes. The traumatic waves subside, naturally seeking their level again, seeking balance as they make their way to the shore, gradually becoming smaller, ever softening, gently rolling, until they are mere ripples dissolving into the sand.

And so it is with the great shocks and disturbances of Life, those events that turn you inside out when you're right smack in the spot where the meteorite comes thundering into your soul. But your spirit will survive it, even if sometimes, it feels like it won't. Your spirit will find its level; it will seek balance. Those early difficult moments, slamming into you one after another, intense and frequent like ominous, rolling waves, will gradually dissolve into the gentle ripples of easier days.

And one day, the last little ripple caused by that initial, thunderous shock, will quietly tickle its way onto the sand and balance will once again be restored.

Wherever you are in that lake, whether fighting to keep your head above water in those horrible first waves, or whether you're somewhere along the more gently bobbing ones, just keep your eye on the shore and know that you are a little closer to it today than you were yesterday. Just know that this too shall pass and one way or another, you will move on from this place. It is inevitable.

2. Protect, Feed and Share Your Light

As long as you feed your light and allow it to breathe, if you do not cover it, it will continue to flicker and dance, mesmerizing, warming, soothing, healing...bringing light to others.

It bends and wavers, moving back and forth at the whim of the very air that it needs in order to shine. But always, it is trying to stand straight, steady and tall again, to hold fast to the wick that supports it, remembering its centre.

When it has been extinguished through suffocation or lack of nourishment, it can be re-ignited by the beautiful light of another. Don't let anyone put out your light - and that includes yourself. Guard it, cherish it, nurture and treasure it, for it is the very essence of your spirit.

Be that light for those who have lost theirs. If everyone kept paying it forward, imagine the radiant and loving glow that would light up the world...

3. The only way your dreams will die is if you let them.

Dreaming doesn't cost anything. And it doesn't even require any energy. It requires only a little imagination, a desire - perhaps just the little spark of one - and you can go to the most amazing places in your mind. And those places may become your reality. If you're gonna dream, dream Big. Why not? You have nothing to lose. And everything to gain.

Our dreams can motivate us to be better, to achieve more, to have, to be, to do what our hearts desire. They feed the ambitions of our souls. They quench the thirst of our longing. Without them, we would have nothing for which to strive, nothing to give us hope, nothing to which we can cling when the storms of life are tossing us from pillar to post.

It is true that some of our dreams will never come true. But we won't know which ones they are until we've made every effort, until we've done absolutely everything in our power to make them a reality. Giving up before then should not be an option.

The only way your dreams will die is if you let them.

4. Decluttering - inside and out

Ahhhh, cleaning the closet. Don'tcha just love it? But it's not one of those jobs that you can love if you're planning on doing it. I mean, who ever gets up in the morning and is thrilled about saying, Today I'm gonna clean the closet! Yippee!??

In my experience, it's one of those jobs you can only love when it happens spontaneously. You know, like you just went in there for one thing. Maybe you didn't find it right away, so you started moving things around a bit, where the heck did I put that anyway, and you're digging through the piles of stuff on the shelves or in boxes or baskets on the floor.

Suddenly, there are you, raking out the closet, clothes are flying everywhere, a pile to give away, a pile that needs mending or washing. And then there's the stuff to try on 'cause you're a different size now, one way or the other, or you wanna be, or fear you're gonna be, so what do you bring out next? Your piles of fat clothes or skinny clothes or your in-between clothes? - 'cause you're in the midst of moving up or down the scale.

And then there's all the other stuff that's in there. Stored things, books and papers, a huge pile of stuff to chuck in the bin. And then there are all those odd bits of weird stuff that you know you might need or want someday but they just never found homes. You know, those things you frown at, stare at, carry around the house for a while, hunting for places for them to live, muttering, What the heck am I supposed to do with THIS? before discovering that you've still not got an answer for that, and you put it in the closet - for now.

Perhaps this will be the time you find homes for some of it and if you do, you're ever so pleased with yourself. But in the meantime, there you are, hurling things into piles, running for the bin bags, hauling stuff out to the rubbish, or bagging it up for the charity shop.

And oh, it feels so great to get rid of all those unwanted items. Every single one of them holds energy, and that energy is negative and builds up in your house, which then adversely affects you, even if you aren't particularly aware of it. Some of us feel it more than others. Being a psychic and medium, I am extremely sensitive to the energy in my environment and a lot of 'dead energy' that comes with unused or unwanted items can really weigh me down and make me feel unwell.

Okay, so there you are cleaning and sorting and chucking stuff. Now you're really in the zone! You're a person possessed! You've tackled that closet and got rid of the energy associated with old, unwanted, unnecessary belongings and you feel so much better already, you move on to the rest of the room, or perhaps other closets, drawers, shelves and storage spaces. And doesn't it feel FANTASTIC??? YESSSSSSS!!!! You're probably even singing or humming, maybe you've cranked up some tunes. You might even be dancing around (but don't worry, I won't tell anyone I saw you singing into that deodorant can). Amazing, isn't it? You were dragging your sorry behind all over the house half an hour ago, and suddenly you're wired for sound and have no idea where all this energy came from!

But who cares? It feels great and you're making progress so whatever else you were doing when you got sidetracked with closet-cleaning will just have to wait! After all, you've been meaning to do this for...how long?

When you get these sudden bursts of energy that have you tearing apart your house, de-cluttering and reorganising, they are usually brought about by a de-cluttering and a reorganising in you. Our environments reflect what's going on inside us. If there is chaos and disorganisation on the outside, you can bet it's the same on the inside. A sterile, frighteningly neat and tidy home reflects a need for order and control that stems from fear and anxiety that are felt on the inside.

Every once in a while, we need a good de-cluttering in our homes, and certainly inside ourselves, too. Every once in a while, it's good to go through what we need, what we don't, what's important to us, what should stay, what must go - whether we're talking about the stuff in our houses, or the beliefs, desires, what we want - or don't want - in ourselves. A little personal re-evaluation from time to time is a great thing to experience, and when we find ourselves in the throes of it, whether by circumstance or by choice, we will often find ourselves suddenly compelled to go through the closets and cupboards as we make our homes reflect our inner selves.

Sometimes, de-cluttering the closets is the signal that we're ready to clean house on the inside, too, or that changes have been going on somewhere in there, whether we've been particularly aware of them or not.

I absolutely love cleaning out the cupboards and raking out all kinds of stuff I no longer need or want - whether in my home or in myself. I love getting rid of negative energy, cleansing my home and my aura regularly by being sure I'm not holding onto anything I don't want or need. I like to take stock of what I have and what I need - who I am and who I'm not. What to change and what to keep, whether in my house, or in myself. It's the only way I can keep my world (both inner and outer) functioning at maximum capacity like a well-oiled machine.

Hmmmm....I don't know about you, but I feel a cleaning spree coming on... Better haul out the bin bags!!

5. Do-It-Yourself Archaeology

This piece will be unusual. Not my 'standard issue' inspirational stuff. But still, I hope it lights a fire in you... in ways you do not expect... in ways that inspire you to be your own archaeologist... and in any way that works for you...

A dear friend told me recently that he admired my determination with regard to my writing, and my upcoming inspirational talks. I thought it was a peculiar thing to say because writing does not require my determination at all. This started me wondering, if it doesn't require determination, then what is it that makes me write?

I write because I can. I write because my arm and hand need to feel the movement of fountain pen across paper (which is far more satisfying that using a computer) and it feels like a release of something rumbling around in my guts. It is a compulsion. Although a frustrating one when I need to do it but the words do not come, or when I am otherwise occupied and unable to play with them.

I write because it's there. It's like I'm part of something I cannot describe, something that wants telling and it has chosen me, hunted me down, stalked me and said There you are, you'll do, you'll say it 'cause it needs to be said. And so I say it.

I write because I'm lonely and the words keep me company. And the notebook and the pen, they are my friends. My beloved friends. My lovers. I caress them just as they caress me in my mind, my heart and soul. The words are all I have, really. They never leave me. They roll through my head all the time, words, words, words, rambling, rushing, floating, racing, twisting, playing - tumbling like gymnasts and they never run out of energy. They never run out of momentum. Words - writing words - this is my full-time lover.

What would I be without writing? It is unthinkable. It is incomprehensible. Words - me. Me - words. You cannot separate us. If you do, it would surely mean my death, as to cut off my ability to communicate would most certainly end my life. It is not just the outputting of words, it is the inputting as well. Conversation and information gathering are just as essential for me, although I am gathering information every moment that I'm conscious, because life and experiences are everywhere; every moment invites noticing what's in it. I would not want to live if I were reduced to being wordless and unable to write about what I notice in every precious moment.

Even the horrible moments are precious. They are life. They teach. They impress. They want noticing so I record what they ask me to write.

I write because I must. As surely as the sun rises and sets, as surely as the moon will smile knowingly on me until I draw my last breath. I have to say something and it may not be good. It may not even be mine. It may come from out there. But it comes through me and I must write.

I write because I've been silenced for much of my life and when others were not doing it to me, I silenced myself; I'd been very well-trained. I have nothing to say and plenty to feel and sometimes the only way to feel it is to write it - or else I bury it. I hide it even from myself. I've been so good at silencing myself when others did not, I haven't even known I was doing it. I don't want to feel and this is why I write. How ridiculous. How simple. How sacred.

I write to release the crap that lurks and hides. I write to let it out of prison - to free it - and more so, to free myself. The toxic sludge that steeps and rots inside me has been there for decades while I didn't know what to write, didn't have time or energy to write. It's been fermenting and eating away at me for a lifetime and now I must write and set us both free.

I write because it feeds me. It feeds my soul. It feeds my imagination. It feeds my mind. The words nourish me, they scramble around me in a flurry like a frantically tossed salad, like autumn leaves tumbling across the road in a gust of wind. They beckon and say, Here I am, you must play with me. And they play hide and seek, their favourite, with Tag being a close second.

And so I play with my friends who never leave me, because it does my heart good. They keep me young. They teach me about me. They teach me to be me. My words love me no matter what, and this is why I write.

My words don't mind if I'm miserable. They are at least as miserable, right along with me. They don't mind if I'm sad. They can cry far better than I. They will be with me always, they feel what I feel, and although sometimes they're steeped in mud, they come out clear as crystal once they organise themselves. And the light shines through them again; I can see.

I love my words even when we argue and it seems they don't love me back. We have a little battle now and then and they remind me who's boss, so I don't give them orders and I can write again.

I write because even without pen and paper, I would still string words together in my head, the same as if I were writing them down. But thank heaven for paper because writing is hypnotic for me. I feel my breathing slow. I zero in on the paper, the tip of the fountain pen. I feel my brain go into hyperfocus and overdrive while my body slides so easily into a trance, a place of relaxation that is meditative and calming.

I write because I breathe and with every breath I'm absorbing sounds and feelings and words and things that want digesting, and then regurgitating as words. If I stop writing, it means I will have stopped breathing. Even if I have nothing to say. Even if I have everything to say and no one hears it. I will have to carry on writing and breathing, being myself in a way I never was until now and I have my words to thank for it.

I write because I need to dig. I am an archaeologist, excavating, everywhere, everything outside but most frighteningly inside. I will dig and expose, excavating the darkest, nastiest, hurtingest places in my soul. I don't want to and I don't enjoy it, but I must do this. It is no longer an option. The time has come. I write because it is time to tear myself open, rip into the darkness and rummage around in the dust, the decay, the rotting old rubbish that's buried layer upon layer.

Yes, I must write this, too, because I want to know myself. I can never really know anyone or anything other than, or better than, myself. Even if I think I know everything about a stone, its shape, its size, its colour, its bumps and smooth bits, even if I know its taste and its smell, I do not know the stone completely, for I am not the stone. I can never know what it is like inside the stone or what it's like to BE the stone.

I can only know ME. And I can only do this if I dig into the cesspools that are hidden in my mind and my soul. I need to know myself completely - intimately - more intimately than ever before. I need to take inventory if I'm to clean out, clear out that stuff. Only then will I be able to find the sparkling light that I know is buried there, and only then will I be able to give all there is to give.

I write because I'm not afraid to say what needs saying. I write because I am afraid to say what needs saying. Whether or not I'm afraid, it still needs saying.

And so I write. And still, I do not know why. I know only that I am compelled to drag the pen across page after page making words words words. But it doesn't matter. I don't have to know why. I just do. I just am. I just write.

6. My Secret Woman...

I want to write about writing - again. About the freedom that comes from opening up one's heart and allowing the secrets buried there to be exposed, to bring them out into the light, Look at me! I am not so scary after all. And for those of you secrets who may, in fact, be scary, it is good to conquer my fear. To face every one of you scary secrets for this is the only way to take away your power and claim it as my own.

I want to write about the sensuality of digging deep and connecting with what is inside. It is erotic; it makes my skin come alive, aching for touch. It makes my body long for caresses, deep, penetrating caresses, connecting my physical self with the deepest parts of my soul - a connection with the Universe. That kind of writing makes me come out from behind a wall, my fortress, the place where I've stayed safe and cut off from even myself, not really a part of the world I've been observing.

And when I open up with my writing, when I let thoughts and words flow freely across the page, nothing is held back and I long to be touched... to be a part of something... to feel connected... It is erotic, it is passionate; it is a very sensual experience. When I write like that, I feel more alive than at any other time, almost