I have good reason to expect that the soul is not the thing that animates my body from within it. It’s not something I possess.

The idea that I possess a soul is approximately backwards. My soul possesses me — as if I had an extrinsic organ comprising a highly developed tinySelf that existed in another very flat dimension and was connected to me be a strand of something magical…

It is my soul’s gentlest pulses of attention that animate my body and catalyze my heartbeat… and when I die, I suspect that my consciousness is retracted along the strand that the soul extends into me, and becomes that being, at its scale. The whole process is probably analogous to removing a hand from a very peculiar sort of transdimensional glove…