21 June 2012
I feel like I should probably share something with you. Something... Maybe you won't understand, but you should think about, just for a bit. Maybe if you just rolled it about between your thumb and index finger for a bit, I'd be happy. Sip at it a little, decide wether it's to your taste.
With my past, I've thought a lot about life after death. Where do we go? Is there even anything? Does god exist? But those sort of questions never really troubled me so much; inevitably, I'll find out when the time comes. So I am happy to wait, see for myself, but not let it trouble me for now.
What interests me most is the soul. I once watched a documentary about mummification in Egypt, namely the 17th dynasty, in which some of e finest mummies were made. The voice over said that after death, the body is a few pounds lighter than it was when the person was alive. Maybe... That's not true. I can't say; I've never been that good at science. Perhaps it's something to do with the cells breaking down or the expulsion of stomach gas, but there's always a chance, that maybe that is the soul.
People struggle to believe in the soul, in the same way they struggle to believe in ghosts, spirits, gods, other dimensions, and the such. I myself am very sceptical about some of the fore mentioned things. But I appear to have a very different opinion of the soul.
When I was boxing up my sisters things, about two weeks after her death, I noticed something. Whereas outside her untidy pink bedroom, it had sunk in that she was no longer with us; when I was in her room it was as if it was all a dream. All her things made me feel not like she was with me, but that she was simply absent. Perhaps, at a dance class, or playing in the park across the road.
This is when I got this strange... Theory, I suppose you could really call it . What if - now hear me out here - the soul is something to do with memory? What of all your possessions and clothing and rooms gather up your essence, you memories, and after you have died, they maintain that. Perhaps this could also extend to other peoples memories of you. I say this, because the clearest one can ever see a dead loved one is to remember them, or see one of their past belongings which remind us of them. Like their ghost.
What I am trying to say, is what if the soul is made up of everything you ever loved, such as a pair of old wellies, a china figurine, or the damp bus you used to take to work. People are predominantly reflected in life by what they wear, the books they read, the places they have been They are what remains after you no longer do, almost like your footprint. Like everywhere you've been, you leave a small bit of yourself behind, a tiny fragment of soul.
I know it's hard to understand. But I feel like in todays society, people are beginning to be open-minded enough to understand, to listen, to mull over it and give an opinion without fear of being condemned by others. And maybe, just maybe, someone else will understand me. Someone out there will understand me, and feel the same, and look a life with a fragment of new opinions.
Thank you for reading this, I know it was long, but I would live to hear what you feel the soul is. Give me a tiny shard of what you think.
The Soul • Opuss № I