Thursday evening six of us sat around a small table at Taste of Paris.  Wine, coffee, steamed clams, pastries, were a satisfying accompaniment to conversation that ranged from Mach Picchu, Peru, to the nature of daily life in antiquity, infuseded by awareness of divinity.  And, I believe that Barry managed to keep tabs with the NFL draft at the same time in the midst of the cross table dialog.  By my standards it was a delightful evening.  Perhaps the gods are still present with us, even if they are now NFL gods rather than dryads.  We do offer the sacrifice of our time and attention.

In Plato’s dialog The Phaedo, Socrates explains to his closest friends why he does not fear death.  His calm acceptance of death is rooted in his conviction that his true self is an indestructible soul that will continue on after the dissolution of his body.  Even in antiquity, in the presence of so great a personality as Socrates, that is a hard sell.  His friends remain grief-stricken.  They know they will miss him.

The argument remains a hard sell, even more implausible for us, with our empirical/scientific manner of thinking.  What cannot be measured, matter or energy, de facto does not exist, we assume.

I do not know about the soul.  Or, if that something-that-I-do-not-know-of will survive death.  I am satisfied that we cannot do without the concept of a “soul” if we wish to live a humane life of mutual good will, of communal mutual help.  If, at the foundational level of my being, the other, you my friend, are regarded as just a complex of ephemeral electrical impulses, a concatenation of chemical processes–how am I bound to treat you?  Answer: I will treat you as a transaction, a resource for my own purpose at that given moment.  Nor can I expect to be treated any differently by you.

Again, I find refuge and support in Rock n Roll for my. sense of reality.  Plato defended and wielded reason, –and distrusted poetry.  He regarded poetry as a form of wild, uncontrolled seduction of the emotions.  I get it. If poetry is more persuasive than reason, may not poetry as well, be used to serve the truth?  Though a servant of reason Plato was a deft teller of tales as a writer.  Plato the playwright, the tragedian, shows his hand.

I leave you with “Angel of the Morning” written by New York City born song writer Chip Taylor. The song was a hit single for many artists. The lyrics are magisterial in their simple story telling.  The fire of passion that drives the possibility of enduring commitment between ourselves is affirmed.  More precisely to the point, the uncertainty of the whole matter, the risk, the demand for an act of faith is highlighted.  Seems to me that this scenario requires nothing less than a soul, an enduring essence of self-hood for each of the actors in the drama of this one night stand.

Here is Juice Newtons hit version of Angel Of The Morning.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HUTsdBpSWyA