I have no fucking idea. My soul is from elsewhere, I’m sure of that, and I intend to end up there. Who looks out with my eyes? What is the soul? I cannot stop asking. If I could taste one sip of an answer, I could break out of this prison for drunks. I didn’t come here of my own accord, and I can’t leave that way. Whoever brought me here, will have to take me home. Rumi
I love this kind of speculation, which I notice is increasingly widespread nowadays. Regarding the sentence “My soul is from elsewhere…and I intend to end up there”, a wise person once pointed out to me that we have never left “that” place (which is not really a place at all, as it is beyond time and space.) Pure consciousness chooses to take countless forms and states. Everything passes; consciousness alone abides. – Andrew
