Working on my Death Diaries! Another excerpt!

I’m quite fascinated with the idea of life and death. I told my youngest son what I was working on and he thought it sounded macabre and morbid. I don’t agree with that. I find it interesting.

I’m not aware of having any life-threatening illness. Death does not appear close or welcome. That will change I am sure. Meanwhile I record my thoughts, feelings and investigations.

What do you think?

70. Souls, Spirits and Essence

Do we have a soul? Something separate from our corporate self? Some essence, a separate spirit?

Many religions believe we do. Somewhere within us is a separate soul, an eternal essence, our spirit. When we die it leaves our body and continues its journey to other adventures – depending on culture and beliefs!

It’s an interesting concept.

As a scientist I look for the evidence. This concept of some internal separate essence is fascinating. We do have a sense of identity, of self. Our ego. Psychologists have investigated this for centuries now. Freud and Jung are probably the most famous.

Freud did not believe in any soul. He saw the creation of our personalities as the result of internal conflict between unconscious forces – our subconscious, instincts, intrinsic psychological structures and learnt behaviours. He viewed our personality as a psychological construct. It is neither apart nor real – part genetic, part learnt – shaped by experience and genes. He divided it up into three components: our Id, which is the primitive, instinct-driven survival component. The Id demands instant gratification. Then there is our Ego. The Ego overrides the Id and moderates our desires with the needs of reality. On top of that we have the Superego. This is more learnt and provides our moral compass, shaped by our culture and upbringing.

Sigmund Freud not only pooh-poohed the concept of a soul but was scathing about all religion. He described religion as a mass illusion, a collective neurosis, based on our inability to cope with uncertainty, fear and repressed desire. He saw religion as a wish fulfilment for a deep-seated desire for a protective father as well as a tool for social cohesion and means to restrain primitive instincts through moral codes. He related it to an Oedipus complex based on a desire for an authority figure that dispensed justice in the form of rewards and punishments. Humans desired the universe to have purpose and fairness! Dealing with the capricious nature of life with its intrinsic meaninglessness was too much of a burden.

Well, wouldn’t that be nice! We all want the bad guys to meet their comeuppance and the good guys to be rewarded. We love the idea of Karma. We want to believe there is some purpose and that we go on, that’s it’s not just a fleeting flicker in the face of eternity.

We have a soul!

Well No. According to Freud that’s all bollocks.

Jung, on the other hand, had a very different view. He actually believed there was a soul and it had an essential role in mediating between the conscious and subconscious. He saw it as a bridge. He did not however, claim that the soul was immortal or separate. He saw it as intrinsic to the function of the psyche, an element of self with two aspects – a male and female component. The soul was the essence of the individual and required caring for. He advised that we nurture our souls through introspection, meditation and self-reflection. Jung was not as critical of religion though he stopped short of saying the soul was apart from our body and mind.

Jung had a more positive view of religion, believing that a spiritual life could assist people in finding meaning and wholeness. He saw it as cohesive in cultures and useful in reconciling aspects of the subconscious and conscious into a peaceful reconciliation. Through spiritual practice people could achieve resolution, become whole and more authentic. He saw religion as an innate human instinct essential for psychological well-being.

Jung did not believe in a soul as a religious entity. He saw it more as an internal aspect of the human psyche that mediated and resolved aspects of our internal psychology. He viewed religion as having some importance in promoting important cultural cohesion as well as inner spiritual/psychological contentment.

I reckon Freud would have thought that Sophie telling Ian Dury’s kids, Albert and Bill, that Ian had gone to heaven would have been harmful bollocks while Jung might have been kinder and thought it helped them through a difficult psychological period.

As for me, I take a slice from both camps. I think all religion is dangerous mass psychosis while leading a spiritual life of harmony and peace with nature can lead to purpose and contentment.

I agree with both of them – there is no separate soul!

My view that there is no soul counts for little. The debate rages. Most religions and philosophies are focussed around this concept of a soul that goes on after death. Mass delusion? Human nature? That doesn’t make it true or false.

Then we have all our near death recollections and anecdotal descriptions of past lives. We can take all that with a pinch of salt or not.

I often try to understand my own brain and its workings. How do I think? Where do thoughts originate? How do I manage to formulate the words I speak? It’s a very complex, quick and sophisticated. Can it really just be the result of these neuronal connections and electrical pathways in my brain? Seems bizarre. These thought processes of mine become fraught when confronted with public speaking. I get this inner panic as to where the words will come from. Will they arise and organise themselves when required? I have doubts so I make notes to assist the process.

So how does this complex process take place? Plato and Descartes argued that there was a separate soul that was responsible for our thoughts and consciousness. It’s an attractive idea but doesn’t really hold water. Like concepts of god it merely kicks the can further down the road.

I don’t know where or how my thoughts and words arise. I’m kind of OK with that. Not fully understanding something is better than latching on to a daft explanation that doesn’t explain anything. The idea of a soul merely creates something else that can’t be explained, much like the concept of a god.

Animals have consciousness. It appears that plants do as well. Is this consciousness/awareness a product of our brains? What about flies whose brains are the size of pin heads? Or microbes? Or plants? They have awareness. How do they manage that? Can you be conscious without a brain?

Then we come up against the murky world of quantum. Is consciousness a product of all matter?

The mind boggles. Does the universe possess an intrinsic consciousness? Does that imply a god?

Do organisms need a brain in order to be conscious? Seemingly not.

Questions. Questions. Questions. Do they demand answers? Not necessarily. I’m OK with wonder and speculation. I’m very suspicious of answers.

So does the soul exist. Not in my book. When I’m dead, I’m dead. Finito. Over. The end.

Mind you, there was that infamous experiment to try to find the weight of a soul after it leaves the dying body. That sounds fun. You have to find a willing party and place them on a very exact set of scales able to detect minute changes in weight as they die. Well they did this. In 1907 Dr Duncan MacDougall attempted to weigh patients at the moment of death. He claimed that at the moment of death there was a change of 21 grams. He interpreted that as the soul weighing 21 grams. That all sounds wonderfully interesting until you see that his experimental methods were very suspect, the samples were small and results unreliable. Nobody has proved the ‘soul’ has weight or that one actually exists.

I’ll stick with my view. Religion is bollocks. Souls don’t exist. We have one life. Make the most of it! (though I am seduced by this quantum idea and the view of all matter having consciousness – but then the idea of Karma appeals to me too! I’m just a sucker for interesting ideas or solutions that appeal to my sense of justice.)

As for 21 grams – I reckon you can stuff that!

Poetry – It’s what I do

It’s what I do

I reach down inside

                To find what I believe

To put into the words

                My lungs can breathe.

When I get it right

                The emotions well inside

Give it everything

                With nothing denied.

I don’t care if you get it

                It’s not about you.

It’s about what I think

                About what I do.

It might be pointless,

                Useless, completely askew

                                As long as it’s me

                                                It’s absolutely true.

Opher 3.12.2012

I was merely musing about the futility of writing poetry.

Poetry – Poetry lives

Poetry lives

And in the land where happiness is banned

They tried to wipe out beauty.

The burnt the musicians on pyres of their own instruments,

Cut off the legs of the dancers and the hands of the artists;

They cut out the tongues of those who told stories,

And electrocuted the brains of writers

Until words no longer filled their now empty heads.

Then they rounded up the most dangerous of all –

Those who distilled the essence –

Those who found the metre to exaggerate the feeling

And convey the emotion;

Those who used rhythm and rhyme

To tease minds and ears into ecstasy and understanding.

These they nailed to the huge tree to slowly dry in the sun.

Laughingly they called it the poet tree.

But poetry still lived.

To be creative one must be brave.

To be a poet you must sacrifice.

The poets’ very lives and deaths were poems.

Their life force entered the poet tree

So every leaf and flower

Shone with the essence of life

For that is poetry –

And poetry lives in the very breath of the planet

And can never be destroyed.

Opher 2.9.2017

Words are dangerous things. They contain ideas and ideas can rouse the passions. Words can bring down governments, start revolutions and change the world.

Poetry is the distilled essence.

Poetry touches the soul.

Poetry is the most dangerous weapon of all.

The greatest poem is the beauty of the planet, the spectrum of nature and the wonder of the universe.

We have the eyes to see it and the consciousness with which to marvel. That is poetry to me.

Poetry – Lines – a poem about aging and being true to yourself, wondering who you really are.

I wrote this while looking into a mirror and studying my face. I was wondering just how many of my feelings, views and philosophy was mine and how much was put there by my culture, upbringing, education, social mores and adopted position.

We are all subject to expectations and restrictions. We are all put through the cultural mincer. What comes out the other end is a shredded version.

How much of my philosophy was merely reaction against the pressures on me and how much were my genuine views.

How can you tell?

Is there a real essence of me that makes objective decisions on matters of morality or actions? Or are we pulled back and forth by the forces acting upon us?

I was fortunate that my family did not indoctrinate me with their politics or religion. They left me to discover my own mind. But the school, my friends and society at large had bearing on my thoughts.

Where am I in the midst of those lines on my face? They are familiar and yet the more I stare the more unknown I become. The lines lie.

Am I a product or an essence?

Lines

Read between the lines

On my face

That’s where the truth

Lies

Down through the years

On my genes

Written in disguise

 

Drifting through the tides

Of time

Rushing through the dreams

Of space

Wondering at the sense

Of wonder

Gouged deep within

My face.

 

Opher 25.7.95