While I frequently mull about life in my mind, I try keeping it open for immediate attention requirements. Sometimes I don’t know if other people are as busy moving their furniture around in their brain as I do. I suppose a lot must do but some people have these blank stares about them and I wonder if they’re even up there half of the day.
The question of soul or spirit has had me playing mind games with myself forever. Since I realised that I was actually a person, people have been trying to wash my brain into thinking that I have a soul. I have asked (what I deemed to be) people in the know, about what my soul and/or spirit actually are. I can understand the mind and heart bit of it. My mind learns, wonders and wanders, and makes decisions based on rational, logical thinking and helps me get through the day without speaking too much crap. My mind helps me neutralise, evade or battle through difficult situations and sometimes gets hit for a six (when the biorhythms are out of sync). My heart feels the heat; it measures the cold front when my mind has forgotten a birthday or my heart hurts when friends are ugly, die or refuse my love. I am fine with all these things and have learnt to cope, not only with what people do to them from the outside but also what havoc I can create between the two from the inside. The soul question however, eluded me.
I found it very comforting to get coached into believing that if I am good, I (or my soul) will, after this life, have eternal bliss on cloud 9. So the first step was to be good. Cool. Get the rules, abide by them, and be rewarded. All went well until I noticed that my fellow aspirant cloud 9ers were breaking the rules but still journeying with me to get to that cloud. When I asked the holy man how this could be, he replied that we are all just people and people are weak. He went on explaining that we all break the rules sometimes, but if we are truly sorry – we can still get the ride. O.K. so I got that one as well, tread outside the boundaries but be sorry later then you still get to where the saints steer the ship. “But”, the holy man said in an ominous voice:” If you commit a sin knowingly, repeatedly and without regret, your soul is in dire straits.” There’s that word again; didn’t get that one (and I was sure my soul would not be part of Mark Knopfler’s band). This implies that a lot of the catholic clergy are awaiting judgement for a ride to hell or absolution; those that taught us, those that gave US absolution after confession. Upon again questioning the soul thing, father went into such an expanded explanation that the only memory I could recollect was that it has something to do with a ghost. I have never seen one and obviously then cannot believe they are here to pester us – not saying that they don’t exist, just my personal skepticism. Thus, left to my own devices, I declared my soul a cooperation and combination of heart and mind.
While growing in life and (what I still sometimes attempt) becoming a man, I’ve learnt of a multitude of wrongdoers on this planet. I read of Hitler, Jeffrey Dahmer, Ted Bundy and many other heinous characters. History has it so that these infamous persons all had something wrong with the mind. Most stood trial, some were hanged or electrocuted, others committed suicide and others were killed in jail. This brought the distraught vision to me, that they are now actually all O.K. They had something wrong with the mind (as per the paedophile clergy) but not necessarily with the soul, sitting happily in purgatory, right next to mama Theresa and Pope John Paul Young, awaiting the final chapter. As father Mick explained: “In the end we all receive the choice to be among the living, or forever burn in everlasting hell”. Well, smack me with a dead tuna, you are trying to convince me of a la-la land up in the sky, a white bearded judge with a council of ghosts and a choice between cloud 9 and a tempering oven?
I’ve witnessed friends and family dying, being buried and forgotten. I cried when my dad died, I cried when my dog died, I even cried when Richard Gere died in Hatchico (not for Richie, but for the dog). I handle emotions with my heart and mind and have one single real mate left over here (the others are connections or friends). She and I share our life and dreams, our daily chores, our moments. She is the only example of the word “soul” that makes sense to me.
She is my sole mate.
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