I had kind of a strange thought the other day as I sat watching my oldest grandson playing a wrestling video game. Video animation has improved to the point where, if you come in unawares to a room where someone is playing a game, you aren't sure if what you're seeing is real or created. The body movements are so fluid, so human-like. That is, until the face turns towards the screen and you look into the eyes. No matter how talented the animators of today are there is one thing they can't create: a soul. The eyes are flat and lifeless. I have been with people who've died. When the soul is gone from the body, the eyes are empty. Sightless. Immediately.
As my mother died, she shed one last tear. The hospice nurse told my sister-in-law and me that many people do that. Regrets? Pain at leaving? I don't know. But once the soul is gone, it's gone.
People argue all the time about what a soul is. What it isn't. Where it goes. Where it doesn't go. That souls create auras around people. That photographs show them leaving the body.
I will tell you what my soul is.
It is the thoughts in my mind that are never quiet. The voice of me. The essence of my conscience. The inner me who gazes out at the outside me. I know it is contained inside of me and yet it isn't anything finite that I can hold up and show you. It is the image looking back at me in the mirror. The part of me that feels joy and sorrow, peace and anxiety, love and pain. Who communicates with the outside world thru words and touch and gestures. It feels the wind and holds its face up to the warmth of the sun. It heard the voice of God and recognized it when it did. And it yearned for something more...all my life...some way to fill the empty void it felt until it found the peace that passes all understanding.
And people will argue with me, when I tell them my soul was touched by God. And that's ok.
I know what I know.