On Existence, Karma and the Soul

Or how to heal the soul

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It is quiet outside. The sun shines pleasantly, and in the distance near the horizon there's only one little cloud. Everything is so bright that I feel like stepping out into the yard, stretching out on a lounge chair, and... Suddenly, I realize that despite the sunny clear sky, it is still too cold to go out without a jacket. I chuckle, and a large smile spreads across my face. Out of nowhere, the memory of a story I heard a couple of years ago emerges. It was told by Alan Watts in one of his recordings.

The story was about two Zen monks who, while walking in the forest, burst into uncontrollable laughter at the sight of falling autumn leaves. Alan Watts never explained why they laughed, but I recall the impression that his commentary detached their laughter from any apparent meaning or reason. I don't know many Zen monks, but I'm certain there aren't many who roll on the ground laughing without good reason. That's why the story felt incomplete to me. He swiftly changed the subject, leaving me with the same unsettled feeling I used to have as a child when I had to go to bed before the end of a movie—an unfulfilled longing for closure. Fortunately, Alan Watts' brilliant rhetoric shifted my attention to the next topic, transforming my dissatisfaction into curiosity.

I hadn't thought about this story for a long time. Then, a few months ago, while driving, an idea suddenly crystallized in my mind. It simultaneously explained the human existence and karma while revealing the deeper meaning behind the monks' laughter. This realization makes me laugh again, but the desire to share this insight with you compels me to continue seriously. In previous blog posts, we've discussed energy, Will, Love/Fear, and consciousness. Now it's time to explore existence, the soul, and karma. Some of you may have already connected fragmented cosmic consciousness, Will, and the soul. "You are the aperture through which the universe spies on itself," Alan Watts said in another lecture. Beautiful words with profound meaning. However, I'd suggest a minor adjustment: it's not the universe itself but rather an extracosmic intelligence that observes and understands itself.

Having said that, we can now define the souls as the individual immortal fragments of experience and knowledge that collectively form the extracosmic supreme intelligence. Now we must add that the human souls are empowered with the Will, and thus they are able to partially transform the energy. Much like the All-Wise, humans can create new worlds through imagination and dreams. Existence is the journey which the soul undertakes toward its reunion with the Creator, strengthening or weakening the barriers of the fragment itself. Although immortal, this fragment remains subject to the law of transience, which governs our universe. Our universe also operates under the law of bipolarity. That is the sole reason why life inevitably leads to death. As one matryoshka doll closes, the consciousness opens up and inhabits another, allowing the soul's existence to continue. Similar to fate, which determines the choices we face in life, karma influences the nature of life: the level of each new segment of existence is predetermined by the choices made during the previous one. "As above, so below"—the Hermetic principle holds true again.

Now, let's examine how the consciousness can "heal" the soul, transforming pain and sorrow into joy and pleasure. If you think that it isn't the soul that needs healing, you would be right. It is the consciousness itself experiences and transforms emotions. In an earlier blog post, we described our emotions as energy in motion. And if we're talking energy, we must keep in mind that it could be transformed through the power of our Will. Let me illustrate how this happens with a personal story. Recently, a man who had lost his mother sought my advice. The pain and grief of this profound loss had plunged him into severe depression. A year after his mother's passing, he became a father to a baby daughter and felt that his emotional state was negatively affecting their relationship. I suggested that by changing his perspective, he would inevitably influence his energy and emotional state. He seemed a bit confused, so I assigned him a simple task: each time he felt the urge to isolate himself in his office and try to drown his pain and sorrow in alcohol, he had to recall a happy memory of his mother instead. Then he had to tell his daughter a story that was based on this memory. This way, he would shift his focus from the loss to the maternal love he experienced growing up. Through his Will, he could channel Love, transforming painful emotions into positivity. Additionally, I explained to him that whenever he was about to say, "Your grandmother would have said or done the same thing," it wasn't merely his consciousness speaking. It was also his mother's.

However, I withheld another deeper truth from him. When souls interact, they help either dismantle or strengthen the barriers between individual fragments of higher consciousness. Fear separates and isolates, while Love unifies and integrates. This explains why organisms instinctively gather and transmit information across generations. Unlike animals, humans can also share this information through stories. Whether through words, sounds, or images, consciously or unconsciously, the soul strives to awaken and return to the Creator. Thus arises the need to externalize the inner universe through art, music, or writing, as in my case. Creation itself becomes a creator.

It's time to go back to the story about the monks. I believe they weren't laughing because the trees don't panic when their leaves begin to fall in the autumn. According to the story, the monks laughed not at the trees or their bare branches, but rather at the falling leaves. Humanity's greatest anxiety, our deepest fear, is death. And as if aware of this, the leaves seem to remind us every autumn that the end of one cycle signifies the beginning of another. Ironically, they deliver this profound message through the most spectacular performance—the leaf's playful descent back to the earth from which it came. It’s absurdly funny how our fears blind us to what's right in front of us. Shaking my head I burst into laughter, while outside, the sun begins to set.