A Soul in Stasis.

It’s a common belief in several spiritual traditions that the soul is immortal and merely inhabits a body for a short a span of time before moving onto another one. And some claim that souls begin their existence in something inorganic before moving upwards through various levels of complexity and consciousness until they arrive at the human stage. I read one author once who claimed to know that his first incarnation was as an amethyst. (This actually raises an interesting point of logic to which the answer appears to be ‘nuclear fission’, but I know nothing at all about nuclear physics so I won’t even begin to go there.) I’ve often wondered whether this explains the old Sufi saying:

God sleeps in the rock, dreams in the plant, stirs in the animal, and awakens in man

And maybe it has some bearing on what I wrote instinctively to somebody in an email a couple of nights ago:

‘Of course you’ll never meet me in this life. There’s nothing to meet. I don’t exist any more.’

That’s how I feel these days, like a premature ghost hanging around in the dreaded Limbo state with only dark prospects for companions. And that’s no condition in which to meet a priestess, is it?

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And talking of the author who claimed to have once been an amethyst, he also claimed to have a good idea as to what animal or animals somebody had been in a previous incarnation from the way they looked and behaved as a human. Maybe that should be my cue to write a post about the Tea and Toast Lady I encounter every week in Uttoxeter. Maybe I will. Soon.