The bluesman said, “The soul of the modern American wanders through a desert in search of water, while his ego dines on plastic food and splashes about in a child’s pool, pretending it’s the ocean.” And then he paused, his gaze piercing the heart of those present. “Chances are your soul is starving. It’s hard to find real food in a society built around the convenience and indulgence of the ego. We put ourselves in peril when we fall asleep to God.”
“We live in two worlds,” the old man continued, “that of the ego and that of the soul. But the world of the soul is trampled underfoot and forgotten.” He lamented, “It wilts, like a thirsty plant, in the dry heat of your arrogance. It grows weak through the insult of your indifference. It is crushed by the pain of your blindness. And I know that God must cry each time a soul returns to Him carrying the unworn garments of an unlived life.”
“How do you rejuvenate the soul?” he asked. “How do you bring a withered plant back to life? There are many ways, but they all come down to this,” and strumming his guitar he began to sing, “you’ve got to get down on your knees, with your forehead to the ground, by the plant that is your soul, and you gotta pray that your tears may find its roots. If you are lucky, your tears will find its roots.”