Silvery grass
When I stepped out of the pharmacy, a homeless-looking man said to me:
“Excuse me, do you believe you have a soul?”
He did not look like a preacher of any typical kind I had ever seen. And I was currently riding one of the many waves of existential crisis that have always shaken my life. So, I thought this conversation might lead to something interesting.
”Actually, I don’t think I have a soul,” I said. “Why do you ask?"
"Big mistake, young man, big mistake. I know for a fact most of us have souls, and I can feel one in you too. But it’s not like they,” he gestured in some unspecified direction. “would have you believe. The soul is not a ghost of you living forever. Nope. First of all, the soul does not have a mind or memories like we do. It’s more like a bug. It has,” he thought for a minute and then he said: “Vibes!” He nodded, happy about the choice of words. “And, another big thing about the soul, it does not live forever. In fact, after you die, the soul usually lives on for a very short time."
"That’s interesting,” I said, “What about religious promises of eternal paradise? Or eternal hell, for that matter."
"Good question, young man. Good question. You see, gods are not like people. They don’t have bodies in this world. They only exist in the world where souls exist. And they live a long time. And through all that time they get,” he raised his finger and paused, “Hungry!"
"They get hungry? And what do they eat?"
"Our souls, of course. You see, the way religions work is gods influence people’s minds through dreams and they make them believe. They make them believe all sorts of stories about adventures the god had, and the god’s family, and miracles, and eternal life. And these people talk about the gods to others, and they preach, and they convert. The soul, being a sort of vibe bug, like I said, the soul does not remember anything from this life, but it gets the vibe of the god, so to speak. And when it awakens after your death, it will sometimes crawl towards the god and the god will eat it. Now, not all of them crawl towards the god, and not all of them are close enough to reach the god before they die. But some do. And that’s enough. And the more do, the fatter the god gets."
"Wow,” I said, “That’s a little spooky. So what do you suggest we do?"
"Ignore the gods,” he waved his hands above his head, “Ignore them. And let you soul be free. Let it hang out in the silvery glass and enjoy its short life. Let. Your. Soul. Be. Free."
"Well, that is quite a story,” I said. “But you mentioned you know all this for a fact. How?"
"My soul is a different kind of bug. It crawls back and latches onto a new human. There used to be more like us, but a lot have been eaten. My soul has a kind of mind and it sometimes whispers to me,” he ended the sentence holding his fingers close to his ear, moving them slightly in a churning motion, his eyes half closed, as if listening to some faint sound.
I reached into my pocket for some money, but he snapped out of his listening state, smiled, and waved “no”. Then he turned around and wobbled away.
”Tell some others, tell your friends, tell some people in the street,” he said from a distance, “Don’t let the gods get too fat.”
Posted by: Paweł Kowaluk