I just burned myself thinking I could superwoman that piece of broccoli rabi from underneath the pot where it fell from its clump. Every last bit counts. There are so many little things that contribute to who we are. No one is whole. We are fragments clumped together and sometimes those fragments fall off and you're still there. An arm, a leg, a kidney, you're heart can even go bad, be replaced, and who you are will always be the same. In which case, who we really are cannot be defined or grasped at because perhaps that is what keeps us together even when we are falling apart.

Unfortunately, most people define themselves in fragments. Soul not counted. I am my race, my class, my skin color, my language, my geographic orientation, the size of my penis, my thighs, my lisp, my sex, my sexual orientation, the size of my car, my house, how many degrees I have.

And what if that all changed? What if your Mom was really Black and your Uncle was really White and also not your real Uncle? What if your skin color changed after an atmospheric shift? What if you lost all of your money or made much of it, could no longer speak, were shipped to another country at age 45 that you are said to be from even though you only lived there for the first year of your life, lost a breast due to cancer, could not procreate, and found out that your law degree, Ph.D., and even your MBA all mean nothing because you're broke? Who would you be then? Who would you belong to? Would you no longer exist?

I say yes. Nature always beats nurture, in the long or short run. I think we are who we were always meant to be and whether we follow our soul or not is up to us. It will be there with us until we die, however, tormenting us until we accept it. Just give in. Everybody got soul.