I've been thinking about the two views of the soul that have been presented here. I'll summarize them this way, and then if I've misstated anyone's opinion I hope they'll correct me.
1) The view that Jehanne and others have is that a soul will be a particular object in the material world. Perhaps a field of energy or some interaction of electrical forces. If a soul is this way, it makes sense to say we could detect it with instruments. Maybe we could even isolate it and put it in a jar.
2) In contrast to the above, I've pointed to the classical view of the soul, as the form of the body. This is the definition used by Greek philosophers and classical theologians. In this system, soul is not a material thing itself but the complete form, history, interaction, operation, and function of a material body. We can study any number of things about the soul, in this sense, but soul itself doesn't exist separate from matter.
I think the classical view is useful. It points to objects, and, more importantly, people, as more than their matter. What I'm writing here I've learned mostly from William Blake, but the same ideas are found in Martin Buber, Simone Weil, and many other people who think about non-quantifiable value.
OK, as an easy example, I'll point to the can of cold coffee that I'm currently drinking from. This is not at all important in the larger scheme of things, but it's easy to talk about.
The can of coffee is, for me, a thing of utilitarian value. I own it for about two hours -- I put 130 yen into the vending machine, get the can, drink the contents, and throw it away. The can means nothing to me but its practical function.
Blake writes about the possibility of opening the doors of perception to the point where we could see the can in its entirety. This would mean that I could see the inside of the can as well as the outside. It would also mean that I would see it over its entire lifespan. Working backward, I could see it coming on a truck into the vending machine, getting the coffee put into it, getting printed with the label, getting formed at the can factory, the raw materials imported from Australia (it's aluminum, so I'm guessing it's bauxite from Australia). Also I could see the person who designed the label, the farmer who grew the coffee beans, the lives of the people who work in the can factory, etc. And I could see what happens to the can after I put it in the bin.
In this way, the can becomes more than a practical thing I use for two hours; it becomes integrated into the whole world. The world in a grain of sand.
We could call the totality of the can its soul, without doing too much violence to the classical definition. Because a person's soul also includes everything that he is and everything that made him. It is not currently present, not detectable by electrical monitors, though it does depend throughout on a purely material world. If we could see a person's soul, we would see the entirety of what he or she is, does, has been, could be.
Blake holds that seeing in such a way -- or imagining that we could see in such a way -- makes us better people. It stops us from treating things and people as abstractions, and makes us see their totality. In Kantian terms, an end and not a means. In Buber's terms, a Thou and not an It.
The view of the soul which assumes it is a wisp of material is in danger of treating people's real being as an object that can be measured and put in a jar.
The classical view of the soul urges us to engage with the totality, extended to infinity, and respect that the person is far more than what can be measured.
1) The view that Jehanne and others have is that a soul will be a particular object in the material world. Perhaps a field of energy or some interaction of electrical forces. If a soul is this way, it makes sense to say we could detect it with instruments. Maybe we could even isolate it and put it in a jar.
2) In contrast to the above, I've pointed to the classical view of the soul, as the form of the body. This is the definition used by Greek philosophers and classical theologians. In this system, soul is not a material thing itself but the complete form, history, interaction, operation, and function of a material body. We can study any number of things about the soul, in this sense, but soul itself doesn't exist separate from matter.
I think the classical view is useful. It points to objects, and, more importantly, people, as more than their matter. What I'm writing here I've learned mostly from William Blake, but the same ideas are found in Martin Buber, Simone Weil, and many other people who think about non-quantifiable value.
OK, as an easy example, I'll point to the can of cold coffee that I'm currently drinking from. This is not at all important in the larger scheme of things, but it's easy to talk about.
The can of coffee is, for me, a thing of utilitarian value. I own it for about two hours -- I put 130 yen into the vending machine, get the can, drink the contents, and throw it away. The can means nothing to me but its practical function.
Blake writes about the possibility of opening the doors of perception to the point where we could see the can in its entirety. This would mean that I could see the inside of the can as well as the outside. It would also mean that I would see it over its entire lifespan. Working backward, I could see it coming on a truck into the vending machine, getting the coffee put into it, getting printed with the label, getting formed at the can factory, the raw materials imported from Australia (it's aluminum, so I'm guessing it's bauxite from Australia). Also I could see the person who designed the label, the farmer who grew the coffee beans, the lives of the people who work in the can factory, etc. And I could see what happens to the can after I put it in the bin.
In this way, the can becomes more than a practical thing I use for two hours; it becomes integrated into the whole world. The world in a grain of sand.
We could call the totality of the can its soul, without doing too much violence to the classical definition. Because a person's soul also includes everything that he is and everything that made him. It is not currently present, not detectable by electrical monitors, though it does depend throughout on a purely material world. If we could see a person's soul, we would see the entirety of what he or she is, does, has been, could be.
Blake holds that seeing in such a way -- or imagining that we could see in such a way -- makes us better people. It stops us from treating things and people as abstractions, and makes us see their totality. In Kantian terms, an end and not a means. In Buber's terms, a Thou and not an It.
The view of the soul which assumes it is a wisp of material is in danger of treating people's real being as an object that can be measured and put in a jar.
The classical view of the soul urges us to engage with the totality, extended to infinity, and respect that the person is far more than what can be measured.
