The Search For My Soul.

Someone asked Carl Sagan if he thought that extra-terrestrial life forms had visited Earth. Sagan replied that there was no evidence to support such a theory. Yes, the reporter persisted, but do you feel they have? Again, Sagan replied that the evidence of such an encounter was lacking. Taking a different tack, the reporter then asked Sagan if he had to guess, would he guess that aliens had visited us. Sagan again replied that lacking evidence for an alien drop in, he would have to guess that it had not occurred.

I cannot remember where I read about that interview, and I cannot say for certain that I've captured it word for word, but I am certain I have the essence of the exchange down to a degree that Sagan, were he still alive, would feel comfortable with my words. Paraphrasing someone, in lieu of direct quotations, is a bit less accurate than I would like, but Sagan wrote a great deal, and I've read a great deal written by the man.

Considering how large the Universe is, and how old it is, and considering that there are so many stars out there very much like our own, and how many planets there have to be orbiting around those stars, the odds are very much in favor of there being thousands, maybe even millions of different life forms evolving in many different places. Logic dictates that if we are to assume that we are not the only life form in the Universe then there has to be both higher and less evolved creatures. The odds that none of them has evolved to the point of interstellar travel would be low. Yet the Universe is a rather large place. It could very well be that we haven't become interesting enough to warrant the gas money it would take to get here. Or it could be that we haven't the facilities to detect such visitors. Or it could be that we are very much alone, in a vast and empty Universe. There is little evidence to support any of these theories as truth far above any of the others.

My quest for the human soul resembles my quest to detect alien life forms. I feel as if there has to be life outside the human experience outside the reach of our sense so far, and I also feel as if there might be, might be mind you, not has to be, some part of the human experience that transcends what we've been able to detect with the instruments that science has given us.

There is that silly, ridiculous and ever quoted twenty-eight grams theory, which continues to hamper investigation, which I suspect, is not nearly as damaging in this venture as religion has become. The object of religion is self-promulgation, not self-examination. The purpose of dogma is to shut questions down, not to open the truth up. The true nature of the clergy is parasitic, and at times, predatory.

My senses seek the divine in each and every small moment, not in the cryptic readings of some poorly written book. I see more evidence of transcendence in a spider's web than I do in a cathedral. Heaven is found in the taste of a woman's breath in mine, rather than past the clouds above. Not unlike many before me, my quest for the human soul centers not in prayer, but art.

Many still refer to me as an atheist but I refute that confinement. Nothing, very nearly nothing in this universe is much less but a process, rather than a personality so should I, or anyone else, expect that god might be less, or more? God as a process of the universe rather than the universe a product of god makes more sense, does it not? Does there have to be a god for there to be some sort of soul residing in each person? Does each person have to have a soul? Does there have to be a person for each soul?

What do I mean when I use that word? Truthfully, me defining the human soul is much like a blind man defining water, but knowing nothing of snow or geysers. My quest for the divine is much like the insect who crawls along a pane of glass wondering what blocks the path. My construction of god is a child's stick stuck into the ground, in place of creating a redwood.

My words are my only pulpit. My thoughts are my only scripture. The feelings that I may inspire in those who read my words are my only converts. Those who would pay homage to their art, so that they might make other humans feel, are my only disciples. The way I live my life is my only religion and my conscience my only savior.

You see before you my quest for my soul. Neither you, nor I may ever know if I find it. I can only tell you that I will not stop looking.

Take Care,

Mike