Like most things we learn in adulthood, it must face the opposing view of any contrary understanding. We must, as we learn, forge not only new thoughts, but replace those which have become obsolete. This is a greater challenge than learning alone, as it takes supplanting structures in our understanding that may hold other understandings firm as well. 

Now that’s one hell of a setup to simply introduce an idea that I learned many years ago, immediately opposed, and have since reconsidered. This idea is about the soul, not the passion or energy we possess, but the immaterial part of sentience that is granted immortality beyond the finitude of physical occupation. 

Before I dive into any new ideas, I’ll tell you my old ones, but even before that, I must tell you that I subscribe only partially to each of these ideas. Agnostically, I will give you a perspective that is rooted in the sense that we have no answer to any of the questions this conversation may pose, and in that way, I expect this to be one with no real resolution, only realizations I’ve had in this string of thought over the years.

So my old idea of the soul was forged in the worldview of Catholicism, the one which suggests our material and immaterial are united for the briefness of our existence. When we depart the body, our soul, tied to our consciousness, is carried not into the next life, but into an eternal (and frankly boring-sounding) afterlife guided by an omnipotent evaluation of our morality on Earth. 

That's where I started. I believed in heaven, and I believed in hell. As a kid, I would pray to face neither eternal repercussion for my actions, because my fear of being judged by God was greater than any desire for being rewarded, let alone punished. That’s beside the point. It’s more important that you know that this soul-driven worldview came from here, even if the sense of God or judgment faded with age and experience.

As I got older, and my inquisitive mind explored other options for the afterlife, I found the immortal soul everywhere. Well, I found it in the Abrahamic religions, at least in the way I knew it to be. That is, in Judaism, Islam and Christianity alike, the soul in some way survives death. In Islam, it is called the Ruh, or a distinct facet of self set apart from the body. In Judaism, it is Neshama, the self through which we act. And Christianity, well, I sort of already went through that, but for the sake of giving equal attention, it’s a soul or spirit, it is us, and it carries us into the afterlife.  

As someone who felt this visceral sense that the soul was separate from the body, these were digestible. I could, despite subscribing to no religion, agree that the soul seemed plausible or at least, could be if we had any way of measuring the divine or metaphysical. But in the same avenues, I stumbled on the religions of the East, which felt differently about souls and established entirely different understandings. 

For Jains, like Abrahamic religions, the soul is independent and accountable to itself. But for Buddhists, Hindus, and Confucians, the soul differs. Confucians have my favourite stance, which is that death is really none of our business, and established, alongside Chinese philosophy, that there are spiritual and corporeal facets of the soul which are called hun and po, respectively. The self then comes about through the presence of each. That latter half also applies to some Daoists, though others have a unified sense of the soul called shen. Shen is interesting in that it is a distinct facet of the self, but it does not carry into death; it’s just a part of us for now. 

The Hindu idea of jiva (which also belongs to Jainism) is the self which is carried into the next incarnation. Jiva is a part of atman, or the infinite consciousness that pervades all that exists. Buddhists move to a concept called anatta, which translates to no-self or no-soul, essentially suggesting that there is no fixed or infinite self. Instead, there’s an idea called dependent origination, which explains how all that exists is conditioned and depends on all that exists. Anatta helps by clarifying that that which exists is not proof of a permanent, independent self. 

So that’s a whole lot of background information for you, now I’m going to help make this make sense. For the first time, I saw these concepts and ignorantly denied any possibility of a soul that was not also the self. Though I no longer believe in the afterlife, I was unable to imagine what these souls could be if not distinct and entirely our own. 

I’ll be the first to admit that this rejection was not because of any flaws in the logic of the faith systems which present them. It was, instead, a reflection of my inability to learn something different, or to simply challenge what I had already known. To me, I feel an innate independence from the world, one that can be lonely, and which affirms the sense of aloneness one might feel. We have been tricked in this corporeal world to believe our separation, at least in the estimation of those who subscribe to these ideas. 

The older I get, the less alone I’ve felt in the world and the more I’ve been able to find solace in the inherent connection we can identify in our ecosystems and our communities. I have gotten closer to this idea that we are not, at the end of the day, doomed to eternal separation. I think it’s important to note that I don’t care if you prefer this idea of the soul, as neither you nor I could prove the other wrong. Instead, I want to say that it has given that kid who cried about heaven just as much as hell, a great deal of peace to think of rejoining life and dissolving the self when the time comes.

That kid I’m speaking of became really concerned with the isolation and boredom inherent to an independent soul that was sort of stuck with itself for eternity. Now this isn’t to be taken as someone who doesn’t like the self they were, though I’m sure that was at least a part of it. Instead, this is to say that I found the idea exhausting, and it enabled a distinction between the soul and others just as much as a distinction between the soul and body.

As a recovering ex-Catholic woman, this was a huge struggle for me. That is, the reconnection with the body and establishing it as valuable and without deserving shame. That's a whole other topic, but it is important in that I grew up failing to view my physical self as important as the perceivable eternal one, though both exhausted me as young as the first grade. 

So what am I even talking about at this point? Well, today is a beautiful day, and though I often take in the world visually (as an artist, this makes sense), I wanted to pretend I wasn't there for a moment. Maybe because of this exhaustion, or curiosity or both. But what I will say is I closed my eyes and listened, truly listened and imagined this was all happening without the self to witness. With my eyes closed, I could listen to the language and composition of the universe. Now you might say, it’s impossible to abandon the self entirely, and I would agree. But I was not simply imagining the absence of the self, but instead envisioning the self as a part of what I was listening to. All that was happening is me, I am all that was happening. So the self, which I would have once refused to consolidate, had joined the choir I was listening to. It was a pleasure and a privilege to sense that connection. 

Since that moment, I have been reflecting on what about it was so comforting and also awe-inspiring. First, it was the first time in practice that I recognized the beauty and comfort in rejoining the song when my time comes. But also, it was nice to know that I won’t ever be alone, even if I feel that way momentarily. It was also evidence of just how different life would be if I clung to the idea that did not bring me comfort, and did not entirely make sense to me, even if I thought it did. 

I relied on the interconnected nature of things to remind myself of this belief, though this belief is not fully formed, nor is it coming from an educated or theological stance at all. But the soul was there, I felt it, and it was both of my body and of everything else around me. It was beautiful. 

This is all to say that the soul and all its definitions can shape our sense of living, even if we do not expect to notice until we die. Maybe I’m the only one who was this concerned with this aspect of understanding the self, but it was of great worry to my younger self. I am happy to have explored this facet, to bring her something worth feeling, despite having no answer. It is nice and beautiful to remember what we are a part of, and how we arrive in the world. When I finally opened my eyes and the sun was there, I took a sip of my coffee, enjoying the companionship that any soul and body could find, and that was beautiful too.