Spirit and soul.
Until about twenty-five, I considered the words synonymous, representing the same idea: who we are. But I was wrong. Because until that time, I’d only known my spirit.
Enter medical school, the one pursuit my spirit couldn’t lift me through, the place where my spirit sank into darkness, the place where soul comes from.
Spirit, for me, is in-born trait. It’s light, generative, ascending. It’s the laughter I hear across these endless summer nights, the joy of children playing hide and seek while dodging fireflies in the neighborhood. It’s the force of effortlessness that glides me through exciting, beautiful chapters of life. It’s the call to adventure.
Soul, for me, is earned. It’s discerning, wise, rooted. It’s the remembrance of impermanence. It’s the knowing behind glittering eyes. It’s the force developed from within the muck. It’s the call to understand.
The fire of spirt seems to lead our lives early, then as the spirit encounters darkness, we lose our light. The soul is called upon to not only develop and lead, but to ensure the spirit’s fire never goes out again. A worthy burden for the soul.
For years, I thought I’d lost my soul to medicine. Now, I see the paramount development of my soul across a period of estrangement from spirit. I see the needed growth of understanding who I am outside the light, so I may endure the dark.
Because as good as these endless summer nights are—I do love fireflies—we can’t rely on their presence to know who we are. Next time things take a turn for the darker depths, let’s remember the point: we’re earning soul (the roots of the light).
To livin’ a life we love,
Ryan Fightmaster, MD
