Last night, Mykyl and I held a discussion that mixed Second Life casino owners with the fundamental nature of reality. The discussion itself was epic…books could be written about it, and I feel that we took turns bending each other’s minds. This morning my brain feels as twisted as the prim in Mykyl’s storefront.
Among the things we discussed last night was an alternate view of immortality…a view that permits its existence independently of any god. Mykyl’s reality view is still at a different level than mine…I am still trying to see if my paradigm is capable of shifting to that level. I feel that we share an outlook, although we approach that outlook from different directions.
This morning, as my animator lay in bed contemplating this, it occurred to him that, while I have shared a poem with both Catherine and Tyrol, Mykyl has never seen it. The poem is essentially a discussion of secular immortality, and, while not precisely related to the type of immortality that we discussed last night, it does share the same spirit.
This poem was written seven years ago for a dear friend, just before she was scheduled to for surgery to have a lung removed due to cancer. She told my animator that she received immense comfort from this poem, and that it gave her the strength to go through the surgery with much less fear. She survived the surgery, but her weakened body suffered a heart attack and she died soon afterward
It has been seven years since her death, and I still feel the pain of her loss whenever I think of her.
A LITTLE PIECE OF OUR SOULS
Everywhere we go we take our soul with us.
And every time we meet someone we wrap a little piece of our souls around them
And through them.
We go through life dragging and weaving this soul around and through everyone
Tying a complex, tangled web to the earth.
And this is who we are to the world around us.
Each of us, along with our own souls, has a thousand, a million other souls wrapped around us
and through us
And this is who we are to ourselves
We drag a little piece of their souls with us, too.
Sometimes we need to grasp these threads for all we’re worth to keep ourselves here.
Sometimes the threads snap
And we can’t weave anymore
But the thousand, the million threads we have already woven are still here
Tangled messily about the earth.
This is still who we are, and we aren’t diminished,
But it does leave a hole.
You have wrapped your soul around me and through me a thousand, a million different times.
If I gather all these threads in my hands and hold tight
And if you hold onto all the other threads that have ever pierced your soul, trying to stay here
Wrapping them like a protective cloak around you,
Anchoring you to the ground
Maybe the threads won’t snap, and you can keep weaving a little longer.
If they snap anyway,
I will take all the threads you have left me
And wrap them around my heart,
And I will carry you with me always.
But try not to let your threads snap
I’d like to feel you wrap your soul around me
And through me
For a little while longer.