Brave Souls
featured in The Open Letters | by Xan Simpson
From Xan Simpsonš
Would you feel more at peace with the suffering of the outside world, and of your own, if you believed you wrote your own story?
Days into a breast cancer diagnosis last Spring, I was in shock, full of self-pity, and agonizing over how my daughters would be taken care of if I died.
My brother put me in touch with a woman he insisted could help me through this dark time. The last thing I felt up for was more well-intended, unsolicited advice. Reluctantly, I arranged a phone call with Juliana. As I highlighted the recent news from the doctor as well as that of my looming divorce, she asked me bluntly why I would have chosen this path for myself - designed it, even - right down to the very last heartbreak.
I was so raw with my bodyās betrayal, and angry; I was vulnerable and powerless. āHow dare you,ā I thought. How could she say something so insensitive at the very worst time in my life?
As I recovered from a double mastectomy, a book arrived in the mail: Your Soulās Plan: Discovering the Real Meaning of the Life You Planned Before You Were Born by Robert Schwartz. I devoured it, highlighting and re-reading passages, quoting excerpts to my mom and brother.
Today, I am grateful for Julianaās question, which allowed my mind to grow and stretch through decades of self-imposed limitations. That question changed my life.
I know now that Juliana was never a stranger; she is and always has been my closest of friends, my soul sister. A high priestess, a teacher, encouraging me to redirect my course of thought from one of victim to instead brave soul. From that point, my unburdening began.
If youāve never before considered soul planning, please keep your heart open as you read on. Allow your mind to tumble over these new possibilities and considerations. I hope youāll see this as both beautiful and freeing, quieting the noise and chaos within and around you.
Why might we deliberately make our own lives so challenging?
Before we enter the physical realm we are intrinsically connected at the highest level with our soulmates. This is a group we intimately know; weāve had limitless, infinite access to them. Together with this group, we determine the lessons we want to learn in our next incarnation, and how we will go about learning them. We ask our soul group to participate in our upcoming earthly life by playing a particular role thatās designed to help us grow spiritually.
Our soulmates will look differently in various lifetimes: your mother in one life may become your spouse in another; your sibling could become your teacher; your child might play the role of grandparent. Circumstances are dependent on the lessons we ask of ourselves during the planning stage, before we are born into the world.
When we are āborn,ā we forget all of that planning and connectedness, all of that light and beauty, and that we are one and never separate from our Higher Power. When we enter Earth, we become afraid, and itās this fear that separates us from our true identities. We (hopefully) evolve into seekers, remembering who we are and our perfect union with our Higher Power. And so our āactā begins: we play the role weāve assigned ourselves in order to grow and develop, to increase our vibrational frequencies, and importantly, to wake up and remember that we are perfect just as we are, because we are light and love.
The contrast of light (the nonphysical/spiritual realm) and dark (the Earthly realm) is necessary, as without one we cannot understand the other. We must know contrast in order to remember and accept ourselves.
Upon reflection over the past year, this contrast has allowed me to understand what lessons I planned for myself:
On Love: Confronting the end of my marriage and the emotional fallout for my children meant deeper inspection of why I would ultimately choose a path that mirrored my own pained childhood: separating our family into different homes, emotional hardship and the loss of shared time and experiences. The empty, unnatural void I feel when my youngest daughter goes to her fatherās home two weekends a month forced me to reflect. I didnāt like who Iād become. And I knew Iād repeat the same patterns because, well, I always did. I was an expert at dragging the remains of my past into the next relationship, only to have that corpse resurrected, a destructive force that ended every partnership it encountered. I am now deeply accountable for the pain Iāve put others through up to and including this marriage. I honor and release that selfish and unquenchable need for love and attention to validate my own insecurities.
On Health: My body believed what I and others told her: that I am unlovable, unworthy, a bad mother and to be ashamed of my choices. My cells reacted. The stress of a dissolving marriage compounded with the mirror of my brokenness, and there I was, aged 43, my surgical oncologist confirming the terrifying news over the phone: āUnder the microscope, itās cancer.ā There had been other calls to action, unheeded, for decades prior ā but this was my final wake-up call.
On Creativity: I discovered a passion project a few years back when I began designing jewelry and accessories with feathers. This was no coincidence. There arenāt any accidents, you see? Feathers are symbols of a higher power and divinity; they offer protection, spiritual guidance and courage. And then thereās the writing. Iāve had a love for storytelling since I was a child, but I silenced that for decades, avoiding the commitment and permanence of the written word and how those words rang false until I could find my authentic voice. What compels me to write are my own small steps on a journey to both improve and forgive myself.
On Home: In a rural area of the country on more acreage than I know how to manage, we arrived as a family of five; we remain as a trio. Sometimes I am steadfast in our commitment to our lifestyle; sometimes I am overwhelmed by the maintenance that comes with living here. When the doubt starts to invade and rob me of peace, I double down and remember our reasons for coming in the first place: independence and autonomy in how to raise my children and grow our own food, protection from a culture that I find increasingly injurious. So I renew my commitment to understanding the natural world and just listening: quite literally, because itās crickets out here. Here, I have no choice but to reflect and improve. Here, my daughters and I bear responsibility for others ā plants, animals, one another. The contrast of four decades of city life allows me to value and appreciate the sanctuary offered by our small cabin in the woods.
I offer this all to you because, where I used to build walls in the face of conflict and turmoil, soul planning has allowed me to soften. When anger and fear have no stronghold, I find love and appreciation instead for the lessons exchanged. Recognizing that my ex-husband is not my adversary, but is part of my soul group, mitigated the blows dealt, the maligning of character, and the emotional anguish.
The ones that have hurt or challenged me most are the very ones I have the most from whom to learn: because Iāve asked them or theyāve asked me to willingly participate and we agreed ā out of a love and purpose so great itās difficult to comprehend.
Addicts, homelessness, or disfiguration: these are the bravest souls. Not to be pitied, but to be revered for their sacrifice in assuming their role with so much courage. I cannot judge or view others as separate from me, because I am the addict and the addict is me. When we remember we are one and in this thing together, we can unite in love.
āEach of us is a seed that was planted within our worldās current vibration. When we raise our own frequencies through growth produced by life challenges, we raise the worldās frequency from within. Like a single drop of dye added to a glass of water, each person alters the entire hue. As we create feelings of joy, even if we do so while living along on a mountaintop, we emit a frequency that makes it easier for others to be joyful. As we create feelings of peace, we resonate an energy that helps to end wars. As we love we make it easier for others, both those whom we meet and those who will never know of us, to love. Who we are is therefore far more meaningful than anything we may ever do.ā - Robert Schwartz
Given our access to peopleās suffering on a global scale, in real time, all the time, I feel continually helpless and frustrated. Sleep is fitful; I wake up throughout the night, images replaying in one loop of devastation after another, of humans inflicting unbearable pain on fellow humans, of the unrelenting ferociousness of Mother Nature.
The joy and zeal of life feel indulgent and tone deaf when I watch babies starving, their skin stretched over their tiny ribcages like a pie-crust rolled too thin; when I see pleading eyes and mouths open, wailing, hands thrusting pots and buckets through chain link, begging for a ration of food; when I see monsters who violate their childrenās innocence and steal their peace; when I see families decimated by wind, fire and water; when my own friends face the unimaginable, whether through illness of a small child or a fight for autonomy during an interminable health crisis. Itās all unfair and agonizing to witness. This trauma canāt be minimized. Not everything has to āmake senseā immediately, and some things likely never will.
And what of the worst offenders of all: the perpetuators of horrible crimes? I know. I wrestle with rage, sadness, and disgust, too. Free will exists, and so the possibility of going off-script remains. A plan can and will be deviated from, and while the lessons can still unfold, the harm caused is very real. Evil occurs and there is no justifiable reason. Even if perpetrators can learn and change from the pain they have inflicted on their victims, or ignite fierce amounts of growth from those they have victimized, there is no higher purpose or value in this paradox.
Iām a new student to this and a variety of other equally powerful concepts. As I unlearn and adjust decades-old patterns and my personal belief systems surrounding what Iāve been taught about life, death, and suffering, Iām grateful for a new path forward. When I feel the most helpless, I remember that we are beautifully entangled, and feel a deeper comprehension on a monumental scale, which has awakened profound empathy within.
The universe is sending messages all the time ā cues that youāve planned for yourself. Pay attention, and listen closely to your intuition. And above all, remain courageous, you brave soul.
About the Author:
Xan Simpson has loved writing short fiction and poetry since she was a very young girl. Now, as the mother of two young daughters, she is navigating a path forward for her family while balancing the complexities of single parenting, a professional career, a burgeoning homestead nestled in the Appalachian mountains and previous health complications. Her writing is inspired by the wild middle - a place that's rooted in the 'in-between' - not the beginning, nor the end. This tiny corner of Substack is a place where love, grief, spirituality and growth beautifully collide.
Substack ID: Xan Simpson
Have something to share? Submit your own reflections or stories to be featured in The Open Letters. Send your work to hasifnewsletter@gmail.com. For more details, check out this post: Submit your Essays and get Featured.
Hasif,
Editor-in-Chief, The Open Letters
As a homeless person, I thank you on behalf of all of us.
Very moving! Ty for sharing this very personal story of eevolution, courage & openness!