John O’Donohue & Meister Eckhart on the Soul as Shared Dwelling Place

Beloved Irish poet and philosopher John O’Donohue once said,

“There is a place in you where you have never been wounded, where there is still a sureness in you, where there’s a seamlessness in you, and where there is a confidence and tranquility in you. And I think the intention of prayer and spirituality and love is, now and again, to visit that inner kind of sanctuary.”

As I’ve immersed myself in the wisdom of O’Donohue this year, I’m finding resonance in an image he shares of the soul, one he encountered in the writings of the German mystic, Meister Eckhart, one that deeply informed his own life and work.

“Eckhart says the soul has two faces: one that is permanently turned toward God and another that always faces the world. Our literal lifeline is this continuity with the infinite,” explains O’Donohue. “There is nothing nearer to us than the divine, we need only slip into rhythm with it. We are, in fact, already home—as he says, ‘in the house we have never left.’”

The idea of being “always, already home” feels spacious to me, and restful. It’s an interior space that I soften into, rather than a call to exterior striving.

Eckhart’s view of the soul was a departure from other conceptions of the spiritual life in his time; it had been mainly thought of as something we labor toward, something more akin to a journey we undertake.

I sense that both of these images - a home and a journey - offer us invitations to engage with our lives meaningfully.

This image of the soul as a shared dwelling place where we have inner access to the divine has resonance for me because I’ve begun to taste this in my own life, experientially.

Here’s what’s emerging for me as I contemplate this image:

Our Daily Life is “Holy Ground”

For so many years, I wanted to live “faithfully,” to “pursue a life with God,” but I just didn’t seem to have the energy/discipline needed to follow through. Trying to tack a morning “quiet time” onto my schedule felt embarrassingly inaccessible.

I wish I could tell my sweet, earnest self that she’s already home. Spirituality is not an add-on, but an orientation.

Several years ago I was at home feeling restless and frustrated. I couldn’t will myself out of it. I got into my car to drive somewhere…anywhere and found myself at a local gourmet market. This was not a place we shopped regularly—it was way out of our budget. I only came here occasionally, in search of a special ingredient or to indulge in a treat from their bakery.

As I entered the sliding doors, my senses were captivated by the vivid colors of fruits and vegetables, the aromas of espresso and freshly baked bread, the textures of huge blocks of cheese, and the olive bar. It was breathtaking. I was standing inside a work of art. My visit lasted about an hour. I returned home renewed, enlivened in a way I hadn’t experienced in church or devotional practice. I had participated in something profound.

I tentatively took this unprocessed market experience to my spiritual director. I told the story and explained how it felt. In a voice slightly above a whisper - with equal parts fear and marvel - I spoke the words, “It felt sacred.”

My director received this with great care. Exploring this experience together helped me tuck it more deeply into my heart and celebrate the gift that it was. I now understand that this savoring was also nourishing and “rewiring” my brain; it was a micro-moment of restoration that shifted my nervous system into a state of calm and rest. Dr. Rick Hanson calls this “installing the good.”

“The wonder of the Beautiful is its ability to surprise us. With swift, sheer grace, it is like a divine breath that blows the heart open,” says O’Donohue, once again offering us language for our inner terrain. “She does not force on us any manufactured coherence towards which we must falsely strain; this is the diametrical opposite of fundamentalism.”

Slipping into Rhythm With the Divine is Always a Present-Tense Experience

My inner home is always there, receiving me and restoring me, but my sense of it fades between visits. As I’ve journeyed in this intimate communion, I’ve realized that, like manna, Presence cannot be stored up. The very nature of this Love is to arouse my desire to dwell in Presence, The memory of it lingers, for sure.

But at some point, I notice my reserves are running low. For me to stay connected to wisdom, I see now more than ever that the key for me is noticing what it feels like to be full, to be empty, and the gradations in between.

We May Not Have Been Taught to Recognize or Access This Home Within

While we are “always, already home,” attuning to the sense of our soul’s inner faces is a posture that many of us are not familiar with.

The good news is, we have direct access to God. We have agency in our spiritual lives. Yet, no one can tell us precisely what that looks like for us. This may feel freeing and challenging.

We are on our own, but not alone!

Faith is Lived, Embodied

The theological concepts we've picked up along the way can only be realized in the context of our lived experience, both individually and collectively. The invitation is to move from abstract intellectualizing about God into a lived experience of faith.

It has been a deeply moving experience for me to know what it feels like to live into a concept that first existed within me as a belief. Tasting grace is radically more transformational than studying it.

Slipping into Presence is Experimental, Not Formulaic

Because these concepts incarnate in us in the context of the “holy ground” of our lives, attuning to our inner landscape is experimental. It doesn’t have to be solemn or even explicitly religious; it can even be fun.

I’ve had this image in my awareness for some time - that anything can be a prism to illuminate truth in fresh ways. Love is all around us, friends.

Practices can support us in connecting with our center, with Spirit. If we see the whole thing as an experiment that does not depend on our effort or “success” (ew!), it can lessen the shame that sometimes arises when we don’t connect with a practice others have described as life-giving.

Some practices drop us right into Presence.

Some practices don’t seem to lead us anywhere. They may not be for us in this season (or at all).

Some practices invite us on a circuitous route. They may equip us for what’s ahead by offering a lens, tool, or insight.

We don’t know which is which until we explore.

Formulas are incoherent to the soul.

What is Your Felt Sense of Connection with the Divine?

Reflecting on the sensations in my body during these experiences of connection, and attuning to my “felt sense” of them becomes a field guide for my soul. Here is an example:

Years ago, amid a faith shift, on my way to work every Monday through Friday, I was drawn to the same songs. When I noticed this, I created a playlist for this time. My commute became an effortless, enlivening ritual that grounded me into my center, into what was truest for me. As I sang these songs I was naming, grieving, celebrating, and anchoring into my courage and convictions. I was attuned to both of the faces of my soul.

In this very same season, I felt so guilty that I wasn’t praying enough. In a conversation with a soul friend, a wave of realization washed over me. I had been praying all along, but I didn't even register it as prayer.

Physically, I experienced this realization as an awakening of all my senses and a deep exhale, followed by full-body softening and tears. Prayer was not about my effort! The Divine opened a current and I was slipping into it. The theologian in me would call this felt sense of prevenient grace.

Would you like some company or gentle guidance as you listen for wisdom and explore new ways of engaging with your soul? Kirsten offers spacious accompaniment and trauma-informed spiritual direction. I’d love to hear what’s stirring in you and meet with you for a free exploration session.