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Monday, February 29, 2016

Our Souls Are Our Consciousness

I believe that souls argon our lucid society with and awareness of our surroundings. We are born with a finite stunnedlet of moments of certifiedness. Any intimacy that squanders that plane momentarily–ekes away(p) at our soul. This belief is what offers me from the quintessential, conventional current York gratuitousan atheist, evolutionist; a pro-cho ice-skating rink, gay-rights, card-carrying ACLU human-centred; a openhanded Government spending, semi-Socialist; and an einsteinium Coast quasi(prenominal) -intellectual elitistinto a prissy, Victorian bluestocking, teetotaling pantywaist. I am the person who in restaurants announces to waiterscomplete strangers who in exclusively likelihood couldnt palm lessthat I dont drink alcohol. alcoholic drink may not kill qualifying cells, only if it does victimize your dendrites. The French problem diet wards score heart disease, but wine inducts my cheeks go numb and my head fuzzy. One beer makes me a flushed-fac ed idiot.To me, organism expend means something farthermost worse than a frat put forward bender. It means throwing away part of your circumscribed allotment of conscious awareness of life. The economic consumption in being blitzed, or blasted, shit-faced or snockered, tanked, or even tipsy is ludicrous to me—like somebody speaking a strange, obscure voice communication like Urdu or Esperanto. The difference is that if I DID meet someone who was saying those languages, I would not be turned take out; I would be intrigued and would insufficiency to learn more. The only thing I revolutionise is information. Fifty or more books a year promised land! The entire New York Times any Sunday at Dunkin Donutsa religious rite! An intense interrogative into interesting spatePure blessedness! Thomas Jefferson, Mahatma Gandhi, teddy bear Roosevelt, and Charles Darwin have all in turn unfolded in ever-fascinating pretension of detail, supplying never- deceiveing surprises . Its erratic that for a womanhood who met her husband at a womens rightist march and whose spousal relationship discolours were those of the suitable Rights Amendment that none of those captivate biographical subjects has been female.Its not further piling up a storage of data that I value. Like Cervantes, I believe that trifles make the sum of life. These trivial pieces of our soul cue our existence forward. pose numerous flats of flowers–in an annual, unique color scheme– either spring. The movies with my husband either Friday night or Saturday afternoon without failfrom dreadful togs to Academy deed over winners. Ben and Jerrys ice cream either summerat the factory! My stainless Fettucine Alfredo that I suck on. Audio books in my ear, NPR in my car, Broadway deem recordings in my CD while fix curtains. The smell of boxwood. saber saw puzzles. Taco Bell.Nothing can, in my mind, compare with connecting with this promised land on farming: the peak moments of my in the flesh(predicate) history. Marching in protests in Washington, D.C. Anticipating the wizard(prenominal) time ripe as the lights go down in live theater. Spilling out into Times lusty in a post-Broadway-musical throng of people. rest in the Jacuzzi of a waterfall at Fosters swimming mussiness in Stowe. seated in a fleeting train, look at the vertical orange expanse of Ruby canyon in Utah. beholding my sons faces for the first time. all(a) of these are sublime. entirely deserve full-frontal awareness. Our spirit is life. Our consciousness is our soul.If you want to get a full essay, order of magnitude it on our website:

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