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There are several paradoxes that I wish to address within my meditations on the soul, for which I shall do in my next entry. For this, however, I am taking a different approach and using an internal stream of conscious dialogue between two hypothetical minds in order to dissect the soul further.

A: I wonder if creating a species as a self-aware finite, bestowed with the sensations of inevitable deterioration indicates intent. If it does, anthropomorphically, one could assume that it is malicious predilection rather than chaotic neutrality.

B: A cruel design indeed, to decay is one thing but to become over encumbered with the sensations of entropy is a rather grim prospect. An impermanent biology cursed with the knowledge of its own decay, wired to fear it—if this were by design, it would be malevolence on an infinite scale.

A: I suppose it may be the only convincing evidence surrounding a teleological argument of sorts, a paradigm of intention.

B: Then we move onto an idea surrounding meaning.

A: Anthropomorphic again, but the passive flow of an unravelling predetermined sequence seems rather uninspired for so much magnificence.

B: An architect creates a building for two primary reasons, a statement of artistic prowess and the utility of shelter. Applying this to an architect of the cosmos then we are both a display of an infinity structure of art. Its meaning would exist within its presentation and the preservation of our and all conditions until the integrity fails. So, with that in mind, does our creator care in a way we could understand about its creation? Is the failure as intentional as the creation? Is there a value in the recognition of it all, much like an artist hopes one recognises their idiosyncrasies?

A: Following the logic of our art, value exists within the finite, its temporality is defined by its transience, fragility, preservation. Self-destruction would be intentional, and fits the idea of natures inevitable suicide, the soul inevitably martyring itself. So, a finite antagonist must linger over even our creator’s head! I think our appetite for philosophical satiation is the intention of this artistic endeavour, we are compelled to recognise the nuance of what we exist within.

B: Would our artist fear its own end then? Or is this all part of the project?

A: If it fears death, then it has a denial of it, and it is no different from its creation.

B: The other option?

A: It would have what we humans call ‘dignity’.

B: We all collapse into the reaction of observation once again, like waves of light to matter.

A: I imagine ‘that’ which is not observed cannot exist.

B: Existence is contingent on its observation, from our ultimate observer ‘The Soul’. However, explain this martyr business, nature’s suicide?

A: Nature is a pyramid, it is top down for us, we all aim towards the point at the summit. The next step of evolution, and the soul, would be to self-cannibalize. Time has all already happened, there is nothing linear left, unless there is something beyond time that emits a linearity on nature. I think that it is the soul that does this, and nature’s final act is its own deconstruction. The soul martyrs itself once the self-reflected observation of nature returns to the void.

B: Entropy strikes again, are we not worshiping a totem pole again? Albeit in a more sophisticated manner, are we not just submitting to our primal tribe mentality?

A: It is hard not to, a nebula’s womb houses stars, such a thing the stoics thought divine. How are we, as hairless apes, supposed to not look at such a complex display of cosmic anatomy and not fall to either admiration or worship?

B: If its all neutral, then we are either a mistake or an abomination.

A: If it is not, then our fingertips are stretching closer to Gods.

B: Does God want our contact though?

A: If so, it has been made a challenge, and our suns inevitable explosion has set a timer upon it.

B: Maybe technology and biology are not the right tools for the job?

A: Something more spiritual? A transcendence of flesh?

B: Maybe, seems too simple for so much complexity. The ultimate observer creates with its observation, and through an infinite chainmail is observed back by an amalgamation of sprawling matter both micro and macro. The finite Frankenstein succumbs to its master’s inevitable blindness, and without the self-reflection our soul returns to its original form.

A: Original? Or something different. I have not worked that part out yet, that is what you are for.

B: How does this fall into reaching the top of our pyramid. We are playing catch-up with someone who has an infinite head start.

A: It seems are best bet is through a form of this observation; we are looked upon and so we shall look back. Now we just need to figure out where to look!