January 3, 2012

On the road

A blogger I admire recently described his soul, in his customarily vivid style, as a square meter of tarmac with a dead squirrel on it. I thought he was describing mine. The popular idea that while our bodies may be feral, moth-eaten, and doomed, they nevertheless house souls that are competent, gorgeous, and intact, strikes me as wishful thinking. I think I’d prefer that eternal life, (in which, like Van and Ada, I mutely and shyly believe), includes a new soul to go with my new body. I may not have lost mine entirely, but I’m pretty sure I’ve chipped off a few choice pieces in exchange for another day of safe passage in this fascinating but “evil and multicolored” world. But what can be created can be restored. My hope for the year to come is that the road kill gets cleared away, and a wildflower or two grows up, undisturbed, through the tarmac.