Quantum physics has shown us geometric figures at the base of the universe which are untouched by time and space. Is that not the very definition of a soul? That which is apart of life, which determines life, without concretely influencing it like a body or a mind, untouched by time and space? That which lives eternally in a nonphysical plane? That which unifies all life?
When I look at my paintings from when I was most sick and had the most clouded thoughts, when I was in the most pain and had the hardest time perceiving reality, there is a unifying touch to them. There was something living independent of my hand and my illness. It spoke through my artwork, and when I was well I could recognize it. That was my soul, there all along, and it was just as much in every painting I created as it is in every other thing on the earth. Now when I look around I can see myself in everything and everything in myself.
The minute that you’re told that you are crazy, you start to wonder who you are if you are your mind. If I am my mind and my mind is so many parts and so unwell, does that mean I am only a sum, an average, of these parts, and when I live in an extreme that I am not myself? Where do I go when I act like someone else, when I can’t be aware of what’s happening? Where do I go when I can’t parcel myself out into little pieces? And if my memories are gone, then am I still me? If my body is gone, am I only others’ memories? And if everyone who ever knew me or would know me is dead and gone, then am I nothing? No, I am not nothing. I am not something so hard to define. Like so many things in life, I am very simple: one energy, untouched by its hosts to which it gives life, and unified with the rest of the world’s energy. My individual soul is the collective soul. Loving myself is loving others, and loving others is loving myself. I pass through every thing in the world like a thought. I come and go, but am never gone.