theory of the filaments between souls
We are trained from the start to think thus.
Each creature vibrates and sends its timorous signal out
along a fine strong filament, invisible to the naked eye.
Out it goes, zing, and is intercepted and amplified
by a neighboring soul, a mother, a friend, a dog.
And so this great web of souls and filaments,
invisible to the naked eye, seethes and teems,
and we, tiny human creatures, seethe and teem with it.
This is what we are taught from infancy.
But what if it were not so?
What if the filaments, invisible to the naked eye,
are finer by far than the spider's string?
Have you ever come across a spider's string, loose,
floating in the hot air, gently turning by your face?
If you have like me you would have taken it lightly
and tugged and waved one end, with great movement.
You would have seen the wave damp and die along its length.
It is so thin a filament it cannot sustain a thing like a tug.
It cannot pass communication from one end to the other.
And what if our bodies' filaments are lighter yet than this?
From birth our souls begin the act of severing.
We are cut violently from the mother's body,
and the filament is tied in a fisherman's knot.
But still the father and the mother are entwined,
closely strung to the babe, and the sister too.
There is much touching at this age,
which renews and strengthens these fine filaments.
The babe makes a mess and the father cleans him.
He cries and the mother places his mouth to her breast.
The sister examines his ear lobes and the joints of his knees,
touching each in turn to make sense of him.
But the severing continues at a faster pace.
The thinning of the filaments happens daily.
Soon the toddler no longer needs cleaning.
The youth refuses his family's touch.
Yes, the young man touches other souls
and strings out new filaments, but
even between the most frequently visited bodies
there is a great act of severing. The filaments between one creature
and others are always in the act of growing thin.
And so it is that we find ourselves in adulthood
lonely in a great darkness. There are a great many strings,
we have been told by those who ought to know,
coming to us out of the night from other souls.
And though they are invisible to the naked eye,
the knowledge of their presence gives us comfort.
And some of us wait out our existence quietly.
But others, who are daring, tug upon these strings.
And what do they find, those who dare?
A spider's string floating by, in the hot air.
The filament is too thin to vibrate.
The web of souls is silent and still,
unaware that one of its members is tugging long and patient.
And then the brave creature rests from his effort.
He faces the thing philosophically, so to speak,
And says to himself, "if this is so then it is so.
Though I would very much like to touch another soul again."
He sleeps, first fitfully, then after long years with a bit of peace.
And when his peace comes, as a gift, he dreams.
And what a gift is this dream. He dreams of another soul,
a father, a friend, a dog. In his dream is a real body,
not an imagined thing, but a fellow creature he has known.
And so let us dream with him.
We cannot know whether the theory of the filaments is true.
But we can imagine, with this intrepid creature,
that at the moment of his dream, when the companion appears,
the whole web of bodies is set to vibrating with tugs and jerks.
The great black wilderness where every body find himself alone
is lit up with a great bolt of light,
and is made known to this creature as a lively land
teeming with bodies and souls strung together
by the finest of filaments, visible only in such a light.
Near and far there are seething teeming bodies
where before there had only been darkness.
Each creature vibrates and sends its timorous signal out
along a fine strong filament, invisible to the naked eye.
Out it goes, zing, and is intercepted and amplified
by a neighboring soul, a mother, a friend, a dog.
And so this great web of souls and filaments,
invisible to the naked eye, seethes and teems,
and we, tiny human creatures, seethe and teem with it.
This is what we are taught from infancy.
But what if it were not so?
What if the filaments, invisible to the naked eye,
are finer by far than the spider's string?
Have you ever come across a spider's string, loose,
floating in the hot air, gently turning by your face?
If you have like me you would have taken it lightly
and tugged and waved one end, with great movement.
You would have seen the wave damp and die along its length.
It is so thin a filament it cannot sustain a thing like a tug.
It cannot pass communication from one end to the other.
And what if our bodies' filaments are lighter yet than this?
From birth our souls begin the act of severing.
We are cut violently from the mother's body,
and the filament is tied in a fisherman's knot.
But still the father and the mother are entwined,
closely strung to the babe, and the sister too.
There is much touching at this age,
which renews and strengthens these fine filaments.
The babe makes a mess and the father cleans him.
He cries and the mother places his mouth to her breast.
The sister examines his ear lobes and the joints of his knees,
touching each in turn to make sense of him.
But the severing continues at a faster pace.
The thinning of the filaments happens daily.
Soon the toddler no longer needs cleaning.
The youth refuses his family's touch.
Yes, the young man touches other souls
and strings out new filaments, but
even between the most frequently visited bodies
there is a great act of severing. The filaments between one creature
and others are always in the act of growing thin.
And so it is that we find ourselves in adulthood
lonely in a great darkness. There are a great many strings,
we have been told by those who ought to know,
coming to us out of the night from other souls.
And though they are invisible to the naked eye,
the knowledge of their presence gives us comfort.
And some of us wait out our existence quietly.
But others, who are daring, tug upon these strings.
And what do they find, those who dare?
A spider's string floating by, in the hot air.
The filament is too thin to vibrate.
The web of souls is silent and still,
unaware that one of its members is tugging long and patient.
And then the brave creature rests from his effort.
He faces the thing philosophically, so to speak,
And says to himself, "if this is so then it is so.
Though I would very much like to touch another soul again."
He sleeps, first fitfully, then after long years with a bit of peace.
And when his peace comes, as a gift, he dreams.
And what a gift is this dream. He dreams of another soul,
a father, a friend, a dog. In his dream is a real body,
not an imagined thing, but a fellow creature he has known.
And so let us dream with him.
We cannot know whether the theory of the filaments is true.
But we can imagine, with this intrepid creature,
that at the moment of his dream, when the companion appears,
the whole web of bodies is set to vibrating with tugs and jerks.
The great black wilderness where every body find himself alone
is lit up with a great bolt of light,
and is made known to this creature as a lively land
teeming with bodies and souls strung together
by the finest of filaments, visible only in such a light.
Near and far there are seething teeming bodies
where before there had only been darkness.
posted by Brett at 01:54
