My Whole Consciousness

By Eros B

“I don’t believe in soulmates.” the old man said quietly.

Startled, I turned to face him, as I’m not particularly used to people speaking to each other on trains. Everybody usually goes about their business and ignores everyone else. Now normally, I consider myself very good at reading people; their emotions, thoughts, and who they present versus who they are, but something was different about him. It wasn't exactly a bad difference, nor a good one either. It was simply as if this old man had lived a thousand past lives, and learned one piece of wisdom that lingered with him from each. I looked around and realized no one had even acknowledged this frail old man. He appeared to be talking to himself, or to anyone who chose to listen. So I did. And as I analyzed this old man, I guess it encouraged him to speak again.

“From the moment I came into this world, and until the day I die, I don't think I will. But then again, I don't believe in much. I don't drink, fight, or love, but most days, I find myself wanting to do all three…” His voice held a note of longing. He swung his legs around in the train aisle to face me completely.

“What's your name kiddo?” He said softly. So softly, I almost didn't hear, but I told him my name and he appeared to ponder it.

“Eros, if I hadn't got so much of this life wrong, I probably would have gotten it right by now.” he started again. “I talk too much trying to sound smart when I only know one thing for sure: Everything is out there. That's why it's called everything.”

The old man paused and turned to the glistening rain falling on the window. I felt the need to speak, but what would I say? This old man was special. How? I couldn't quite put my finger on it yet.

“Can you hear the rain?” he jolted me out of my thoughts once more. I couldn't hear it over the screeching of the train on its tracks, and the distant chatter of other folks' conversations. “Listen harder. Listen with everything you have. Not just your ears, but with your eyes, your nose, your whole consciousness. Because it's never just about listening with your ears. Please understand this.” He stared hopefully at me. I had no idea what he meant, but that didn't seem to slow him down. “When it rains, see the ripple in the puddles on the concrete caused by the drops. See which people run to get out of the rain, and which people stop to live in the moment. See the rain slide off the green leaves and onto the shining flowers or grass, and when it's all over, notice the smell of the concrete; how earthy and pure.” He continued, still holding my attention. “Because it’s never just about listening with your ears: it's not just about one moment. It's about every trivial moment leading up to the joy, the pain, the fear… Whatever it is, live in it. Sit with it. Feel it.”

My eyes were glued on this frail man, suddenly alive with emotion and heart, and I thought of his original statement. How could he not believe in soulmates? Unsure of what I believed in myself, I was willing to hear his argument. “Well, Eros…” he said. “ I respect whatever people believe in, as long as it's not disrespecting anyone else, of course. But I don't believe in soulmates because if they were real, I would have found mine by now.”

The old man turned away.

Afraid that I upset him, I tapped his shoulder and asked him to go on, and with the train still roaring, this old man found his spark again. However, I noticed he never came back to my initial question.

“I like to think that each star is the soul of someone deceased that at least one person loved so that even though that person may not be here physically, they will be here spiritually. And that's all that matters. When someone you love passes away, God forbid, as long as you still have the memories, are they truly gone?”

That struck a chord with me. And even though his question was essentially answerless, I still tried to come up with one anyway. Ruminating, I looked past the old man and out the train’s tiny window behind him. Lightning flashed somewhere in the distance, and the old man took notice.

“I like to think that science can't explain everything. Yes, I know that lightning is caused when there is an imbalance between the storm clouds and the ground, but what if the lightning just wants to put on a show? What if the lightning, especially during the night, is just showing off its beauty to the stars, and their twinkling is them clapping in enjoyment?”

He looked deep into my eyes, and his tone became elegiac. “Not everything has to be so concrete, Eros,” the old man spoke. “People who only think in absolutes without any abstracts are simply no fun to anyone else, and especially no fun to themselves. What a sad life they must live, always keeping their head on the ground, never in the clouds… If you never thought abstractly ever again, how do you think your life would turn out? How do you think you’d feel?”

He paused and gave me time to process his words.

Me, being the creative that I am, considered his proposal. Almost automatically, I knew that my life would be incredibly dull.

He considered my answer and smiled in approval.

“Well Eros, this is my stop…” He muttered almost absentmindedly.

I froze, panicked. I hadn't even noticed how long we’d been talking, that I'd missed my stop, or that the screaming of the tracks had ceased.

He stood up shakily and said one last thing that I know I will carry with me for the rest of my life: “You're a bright boy, Eros, and I will forever be grateful that you noticed me, an aimless old man who happened to hop on this train by chance, and chose to listen. I've got no children or grandchildren to pass my message onto, but tonight, I pray that you'll keep this memory alive, and I’ll never truly be gone.”

The old man stepped off the train, and I watched him disappear into the sea of people milling back and forth in the small station.

He never looked back, and because of that, I won't either. I will never look back.

I will internalize every piece of wisdom that the old man gifted to me, and I will listen with my whole consciousness. And sitting there, alone on that train, I had a moment of clarity. I pulled out my journal, my black pen, and I started to write. Sitting there for a bit, choosing my words carefully, I decided on the five words that changed my perspective on life forever:

“I don’t believe in soulmates…"