People's dreams are made out of what they do all day. The same

When Barbara Kingsolver wrote, “People’s dreams are made out of what they do all day. The same way a dog that runs after rabbits will dream of rabbits. It’s what you do that makes your soul, not the other way around,” she unveiled a truth as old as human striving: that our actions shape our spirit, and that our daily habits forge the essence of who we are. Her words, though simple in rhythm, strike with the depth of ancient philosophy. They remind us that the soul is not a distant, fixed thing—it is formed by our living, molded by the choices we make, the work we perform, and the thoughts we cultivate each day.

In these words, Kingsolver is not merely speaking of dreams as the flickering visions of the sleeping mind. She speaks of life’s greater dream—the dream of purpose, meaning, and becoming. A person who spends their days in compassion will dream of compassion; one who toils in deceit will be haunted by deceit. Just as the dog that chases rabbits cannot help but dream of them, so too does the human spirit carry its waking deeds into the realm of its inner life. This is the law of being: we become what we do. Our soul is not a seed planted apart from our actions—it grows from them, like a tree from the soil it stands in.

To the ancients, this truth was sacred. The philosopher Aristotle once said that excellence is not an act, but a habit—that we are the sum of our repeated deeds. Kingsolver’s quote is a reflection of this same wisdom, uttered in the tongue of poets rather than scholars. For she sees that every motion of our day—every kindness, cruelty, labor, or neglect—etches itself upon the mirror of the soul. And when night falls, our dreams reveal what we have become. The man who gives his life to beauty will dream of beauty; the one who surrenders to greed will see only the shadows of want. Dreams are the echo of the day, and the day is the sculptor of the soul.

History itself testifies to this principle. Consider Florence Nightingale, the lady with the lamp. Day after day, she walked through the dim corridors of military hospitals, tending to the wounded, cleansing filth, and bringing order to despair. Her hands became instruments of mercy, her will a fortress of resolve. In time, her very being became shaped by her work—so much so that when she lay in illness, she still dreamed of healing. Her soul was not born of divine chance, but of the ceaseless labor of compassion. It was through what she did, not merely what she believed, that she became an icon of humanity’s light.

Kingsolver’s insight reveals the alchemy of action—that what we repeatedly do, we become. Yet it also carries a warning. Many seek to cultivate goodness in thought while neglecting it in practice; they imagine the soul as something untouched by the grime of the world. But as Kingsolver reminds us, it is our doing that makes our being. To live in anger is to feed anger within the spirit. To live in generosity is to nourish peace. The world is not a stage upon which the soul performs; it is the workshop in which the soul is forged. What we feed our days to, we feed our eternity to.

And so, her metaphor of the dog chasing rabbits is not mere charm—it is revelation. The dog cannot dream of what it has never known. Nor can the human heart dream of virtue if it has not practiced virtue. If you would dream noble dreams, live a noble life. If you would dream of beauty, make your days beautiful. The spirit is not an untouched flame; it burns with the fuel we give it. The soul follows the hands, and the hands follow the will.

Let this teaching be carried forth like a lamp: your soul is not a gift—it is a creation. Every word you speak, every act you perform, is a stroke of the chisel shaping who you are becoming. Therefore, act with intention. Fill your days with the work you would want to dream of. Choose deeds that strengthen love, wisdom, and courage. For as Kingsolver teaches, it is what you do that makes your soul, not the other way around—and in that truth lies both the power and the responsibility of being human.

So rise each day as the sculptor of your own spirit. Let your labor, your art, your kindness, and your struggles become the clay from which your inner life is formed. For when you sleep, your dreams will not deceive you—they will tell you who you have truly become.