Mind vs Soul

I always held the belief that the Eastern influences would be the one to balance out the hyper-masculine neurotic culture of the West. However, I don't think the East is knowledgeable enough of the intense power she once held over the West and her great innate powers that stagnated because of years of Western ideologies, culture, etc. supremacy.

When I look back on my ancestors and connect deeply with my Asian roots, I find leaders, mentors, and so-called icons like the Buddha, Lao Tzu, Confucius, the Dalai Lama, the gurus, the Babaylans, and the great deities like Shiva and Shakti who tenfold outperforms many popular leaders, intellects and idols of the West who complicates life by over intellectualizing everything. Don't get me wrong, C, reading Plato, Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, Nietzsche and others is a mind treat. I think they're brilliant. However, I find their philosophies lacking something that only the teachings of the Eastern aliens can easily fill out and understand. Nothing, not even Freud’s theories, can top the great ol’ mighty badass Shiva and the metaphor for the serpent (or Ahamkara) coiled around his jugular. Tho, I don't want to completely disregard the Western artists and poets who have come close to conveying the essence of the Eastern teachings through their works of art.

God. I hope my biases aren't clouding my judgments...

That reminds me of yesterday afternoon when I had another serendipitous moment debating with Lucas, a cute Italian neuroscientist I randomly bumped into at Barceloneta, a beach right in front of our institute. We engaged in a spirited debate about the existence of the human soul.

Lucas argued that humans do not possess a soul, attributing anything related to the soul to brain functions. I, of course, disagreed. I told him Westerners are big bozos and always think too logically.

“That’s ironic, coming from a scientist like yourself,” he said. “Are you really who you say you are?”

"If you're asking if I base my identity solely on my profession and if I’m the dogmatic type who dominates this damn corrupt academic institute, then no. I am not that type.” I said, fervently digging my Doc Martens into the sand. “I get it tho. I understand why you would ask such a question. It aligns with your skepticism in the existence of the soul. You did strike me as someone who always tries to navigate life through logic alone.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Bad? That's suicide!”

“How so?”

“Tell me, are you happy this way?”

“Thinking is not a bad thing you know? In fact, these days, critical thinking is a skill most lack.”

“I agree. But the lack thereof is not my concern.”

“Where are you getting at?”

I rummage through my coat pockets and took out my last remaining pack of Esse pop which I purchased in the Philippines before I left. I stuck a slim stick in between my lips, busted the cherry pop, lit it up and took a long deep meditative drag.

“What would you do if you were stripped off of[2] your job, your doctorate degree and your house?” I asked, puffing out a cloud of cherry smoke.

“In the small chances that that does happen then the more I will resort into thinking my way out of the bad situation.”

“Is getting a doctorate degree what you really want?”

“Are you asking me or yourself?”

“Look. I’m at a crossroads, Lucas.” I sighed, feeling the weight of my words. “I always catch myself defending my profession and my PI and telling the world how swell of a boss he is and how significant what I’m doing is and all but deep down, there’s an ick, yah know? Like, deep down, I know I’m only lying to myself.”

“I understand what you’re going through,”

“Do you really? I mean, aren’t you this fancy ass neuroscientist?”

“Fancy ass neuroscientist is an understatement. I understand what you’re going through because…no. I am not happy.”

“So wouldn’t losing your job and your degree actually work in your favor?” I asked, searching for some clarity.

“Mmm perhaps. But I wouldn’t know where to go next. At least, as long as I have a doctorate and a job then I have a roadmap.”

“So you’d rather stay stuck in a soul-crushing job rather than finding out for yourself if there’s something more for you out there?”

“I don’t know,” Lucas muttered, kicking sand off of his shoes. “How is this even related to your question about the soul?”

“I’m getting there. Just answer the damn question.”

“I said I don’t know. I don’t know what’s out there and I’m not sure I wanna find out. I’ve only been trained in one profession but when it comes to solving real-world problems, I’m clueless.”

From the corner of my eye, I caught Lucas apprehensively surveying the infinite horizon. “You remind me so much of Manolo the square,” I remarked.

“Who?”

“The irony here is that we call ourselves scientists, the ones society expects so much to be curious and all, only to be the ones who are so afraid of plunging into unknown waters. Even to the point where we’d sacrifice our sanity over some stupid degree and a stupid job title!”

“I still don’t understand how all these relate to your question about the human soul.”

“Don’t you see? This institute is a damn prison. It sure as hell made you unhappy.”

“Unhappy is an understatement…” Lucas trailed off.

“Yet you choose to stay!”

“It’s the academic system that’s flawed!” he thought out loud as if defending the decisions he continuously regrets choosing. “They don’t have a care in the world about their scientists. They don’t care at all what happens to us after PhD. And the ones on top? Only care about their stupid publications and their stupid tenureship. Only care about keeping the hamster wheel turning! I’m telling you it’s all a stupid pyramid scam, a scam you can’t admit even to yourself because you’re already in it too deep.”

“Then, why? Why do you choose to stay?” I pressed.

“Why do you?”

I haven’t thought about that in a while, C. Honestly, I do not aspire to become a PI or to run my own lab. Besides, gone are the days when science and exploration are actually fun. Gone are the days when scientists are not pressed with the looming demands from corrupt academic folks for producing specific results.

Idk, C, most days I find that my profession is no longer a necessary thing that sustains life but, as Lucas indirectly pointed out, no one wants the word to get out. Plus, I didn’t want to be looked at as an ungrateful bitch. Although, I gotta admit, there are days I still enjoy tinkering around and looking through the microscope to peek into an otherworldly beauty but that's as far as my curious mind can wander. I pursued higher studies because I thought doing so could help me answer the big questions plaguing me only to find out later on that the current educational model in the West falls short. For a while, what kept me from justifying to myself the reasons why I do the things I do is because, again, as Lucas mentioned, I, we’re already in it too deep. Call me ungrateful all you want but now that I think about it, I mainly thought of it as a way to escape reality. At least our reality...

“I’d like to know what’s out there, Lucas,” I took one last drag off the cigarette before flicking the butt in the sand.

“You mean to say, you’re considering quitting?” Lucas asked, surprised.

“If quitting means finding out what’s out there then you bet your ass I am.”

“You’re crazy! Yes, it has flaws but if I were you, I’d hang in for a little while longer and finish what I’ve started.”

“And sacrifice 4 or so years of my young life for-for what exactly?” I retorted.

“Cmon. Be reasonable!” Lucas pleaded.

“Can’t you see? I’m tired of being reasonable,” I said, feeling the frustration building up. “No offense but I don’t want to end up unhappy like you.”

"That's a bit harsh, even though I understand your point."

“I’m just sick, you know! I’m sick of trying to rationalize the value of what I’m doing in order to convince myself that it’s worthwhile. I mean, I get that the quest for knowledge is supposedly a noble pursuit and all but the way you do things here does not sustain my-my fire…”

“Calm down for a sec, ok? Even if you quit, think about it, your situation, I mean,” he said, fumbling for the right words to say. “You’re not exactly in the right position to decide on this right now[3] .”

“What are you saying?” I asked, knowing I’d regret hearing what he’d say next.

“All I’m saying is, moving to Barcelona and finding a job was already a struggle for me and I-I’m already Italian…”

My naivety sometimes gets the best of me, C. He’s right. While most of my friends here are Europeans, that doesn't grant me the same privileges they have. I can laugh around and share jokes with them but at the end of the day, no matter how hard I try, I will never truly be one of them.

I got my ticket outta poverty through this opportunity. If I blow this off, I’m afraid I’ll suffer the same fate as the rest of them dawgs living here. But if I stay, I’d run the risk of regretting not finding out if there’s something more out there for me, for us.

God. I’m in a rut, C. What choice do I have?