I just had the most startling conversation with Zeph about souls. It sprang from nowhere during idle chat at bedtime. He’d started talking about how brains work and how you can’t take them apart to see like machines – well you can – but only once they’re dead and so you can’t see the bit that makes them be you.
These are big thoughts – I think – and I told him how I puzzle over them myself, how I think that’s what makes us transcend – wrapping our thoughts round these sharp-edged puzzles.
Then we talked a bit about Pokemon.
Bloody Pokemon. When will I be free of them? When? I’m laughing now at the ease we slipped from eternal questions about the immortal spark to Pokemon to the sore bit on his toe. (I refuse to consider the idea his feet could have grown again…)
It’s nearly the end of term. This year seems to have slipped through my fingers and I’m still reeling around, slightly aimless. Although I’m concentrating on embracing meaning in my life every day I still feel like I’m trying to formulate a direction for myself. More so than usual. I didn’t plan to feel so limbo-ish. It’s all good news mostly. I am in remission. So why do I still feel so unable to grasp the nettles?
I genuinely feel that we hold the answers to all our big decisions. Just mostly we find it really hard to listen to ourselves. Suspicious of intuition we discount our gut which is only trying to relay the conclusions the larger part of our overlooked and ignored consciousness has reached.
I dreamt last night about a person from my past who died recently. It wasn’t an easy time for me – I was filled with angst and self-reproach. Turning it over in my mind today I found the jagged edges of the facts of our relationship and my interaction with her grieving mother have been tossing around in my internal oceans. Today it is a smooth pebble which I hold thoughtfully. I have placed it on my personal cairn. I’ve made some peace with it.
This all sounds slightly stomach lurchingly hippyish but I’m thinking it because of the conversation Zeph and I had. We are miraculous, marvellous astounding machines of undreamt complexity aren’t we? So often I dismiss, or miss altogether, the answers my brass cogs churn out for me.
Perhaps I should pay more attention.
Ida spent most of the day as a cat. I found an old Halloween cat costume in one of the cupboards I’m clearing and she embraced the ears and tail with squeals of glee. It also had a wand with a cat’s head on the end which meant she put a lot of spells on the good people shopping in Asda today. Lucky people.