Anima Mundi series: South Florida

Anima mundi is Latin for "world soul". The idea that the world has a soul goes back to Plato, but is also compatible with many concepts in Eastern philosophy, such as with the Brahman-Atman of Hinduism. It's also a term that Jung used in his work, which is how I first encountered these words. This is a title of a series about my connection to the soul of the Earth through my relationships with places I have called home. 

South Florida.

When I think about you, I think most often of my childhood. Back when I'd never seen snow or a mountain, when the only things I knew about the world were that it was sandy and humid, bright and hot. 

We had an orange tree in the backyard that I adored. Every winter it would grow heavy with what seemed like hundreds of the sweetest oranges I'd ever tasted. I'd eat them until my lips burned. Sometimes when I am stressed and anxious, I close my eyes and return to the shade of that tree. Even though it died long ago, in this way, it still protects me.

We adopted a white Boxer my brother called Boomer, after the football player. Boomer was intelligent. He instinctively knew the boundaries of our yard and we never had to leash him. He was also protective. We had a shed in the backyard that I would often paint in until the wee hours of the morning. Though he wanted to go in the house to bed, he wouldn't leave me. He'd whine by the door and try to get comfortable on the cold, hard concrete in there. He wouldn't go in until I went in. 

He was my companion. He was my best friend. Boomer still visits me in dreams. Though he is gone now, in this way, we are still friends.

When I think about you, South Florida, I think about what a dreamer I was. As a little kid, I'd sing songs into the wind and wish it would travel to the ears of my future husband. How I'd pray only for the ability to fly. How I watched sunsets, how I lost myself in books, how I suffered, how I transformed. I was still a child when I left you, but I thought I was grown.

When I visit my parents, I find myself grazing the memories, these memories. And although so much has changed, you still contain my roots. Your air was the first I'd ever breathed. Your light was the first that ever met my eyes and my skin. And when I return to you, I always return to the days of make-believe and of oranges.

Images via Wikimedia Commons.

-Blessings-