the phantom of the soul

If we posit that the soul is immortal, it then means that it has a past, present, future and beyond-future. For now, we will be unable to visually the future and the beyond-future. That is a fact. If history is in present tense, then that is what others claim that your history makes up the present "you", so one of the clunkiest things that you cannot erase is your history. Even when it is buried, it doesn't cleanse you. And when your history hurts the “you” now, then the only recourse is not to be blissfully unaware, but to let go. How do you let go then? One analogy: as I pour hot water into a cup you are holding on to, till it overflows and scalds your hand, the natural response is that you will drop the cup. We will let go only when we experience pain. Fears come not only when hurt arrives, but fears arrive when there is a need to venture into the unknown. And when that happens, it simply means that because you have anticipated pain in that unknown, that makes you fearful. This then explains the lack of courage for what you have yet to know. This entire fantasy towards a reality can then be morbid and distorted, since there is no one way to clarify why. Not only does your history mould you to who you are today, it is also a baggage that you have to carry, for good or for bad. Sometimes, others’ history naturally tugs at your heartstrings no matter how you choose to live in self-denial. It is like someone’s history knocking on the doors of your soul, egging you on to a new level of belief. That becomes uncanny when you cannot trace the connection between that and yourself. It is inscrutably random and stifles all possible senses. Do we ever brush ourselves with the souls of others when we are breathing? Or do we already have a past that is intertwined long before we are born? When two souls become too intimate, ultimately, it makes you feel for the least, out-of-place in who you think you actually are. It can turn you irrational and blot out all logical reasoning with all might. That disparity that causes your false sensing towards your soul catalogues you into a deeper responsibility towards the subsistence of your soul. You become marginalised from your own being. If the soul really does have a past, can its relationship with its past be described in frilly remnants, since these will soon fade away in the memory bank of the mind? Or can its relationship with its future and beyond-future be explained in a solid bridge that has faith as its foundation? How true to say that we can be so preoccupied with living the present that we do not prepare for our future and the beyond-future? Are we all just empty vessels collecting new knowledge each day till they subside to nothingness when death arrives or when the journey to heaven begins? Or in another perspective, will then the phantom of the soul come to life when that time comes? Can that time ever be defined? This pall of gloom, like a knothole of a tree, compels our dour acceptance of our existence on earth. But is it ever enough?