When Soul Leaves Body (That Thing We Hope Never To See)

Most humans have an essence, an essential energy that keeps their body moving, their brain working with their body to find a use for itself and to somehow find meaning, joy, and purpose. This essence is often referred to as the soul. A brief definition of soul is : the spiritual essence of a person, which includes one’s identity, personality, and memories, an immaterial aspect or essence of a living being that is believed to be able to survive physical death. Physical death can be quick and sudden or unexpected, protracted and slow. It can be welcome and blissful or unwanted, and painful. Some people fear physical death. Some invite it, tempt it, anticipating some kind of rapture as reward or to discover their body and soul’s purpose on earth. Some people are adrenalin junkies, training themselves to test and show their skills. Some people medicate themselves with mood and performance enhancers that reduce the perception of risk. They are relaxed or emboldened, their thrill heightened. Some people give in to road rage and risk injury and death to themselves and others, to express their outrage and offense at being offended by another’s behavior.

The possibility or belief of transition from physical death to released spirit is yet to be proven but there are anecdotes and compelling dramas. When soul leaves body, how, and at what moment does it go? Is it during the last exhale or breath or cry or moan? Is it with the last heartbeat? Perhaps it’s when the eyes close for the last time or with the last poisonous, therapeutic, MAiD sponsored, relieving, healing, life saving MRNA injection. Is it when you take that last involuntary gulp of water as you drown?

A ride begins with a conversation, a meeting of like minds or the thought of a solo rider. “It’s going to be a sunny and dry day……a great day for a little rip.” “Forecast calls for snow next week….let’s go!” It could be a seasonal pull or push to get out for the first days of spring, summer or fall…for the colors. “We could pack a lunch, make a day of it.”

That thing you hope never to see comes on in the distance with the telltale flashing lights of what can only be, surely is, an RCMP operative in the process of ticketing a speeder. You think either, “Good, serves the speeder right” or “Typical…more police state oppression.” You are conflicted – torn between the pleasure and mild tension of a good ride and the imposition of government intervention. As you approach the scene, you slow, you see what begins as a debris field, bits of red and black plastic and reflective metal that contrast with the fall colors of grasses and bushes in the ditch. Surely it was a wildlife dodge or an animal strike but of this there are no obvious signs. A few meters closer you see a man in rider gear walking back towards you, dazed, seemingly looking for something. Closer still, you see two parked motorcycles and a woman sitting on the shoulder with her head in her hands. You see her shaking. A few meters more and you are so drawn, so curious, so you edge closer to the scene and you see a uniformed figure performing the grim task of covering a body with a blanket. There is a gloved hand sticking out. That’s when your soul cringes and collapses, an ‘Oh fuck” leaves your lips and echoes inside your helmet. You hollow out a bit. You creep forward to see the final resting place of what remains of a red motorcycle, it’s brand and vintage unrecognizable. It has been subjected to the same energies, forces and trauma that destroyed a human body and ended a human life…released it’s soul.

When did this rider’s soul leave body?

I wonder if the rider’s soul started releasing temporarily, at the very moment that he thought, “Oh fuck” and realized that he was in trouble and then only partially at the first violent impact of body with bike or the ground, just before, during or after the launch and trajectory of body into the air. Did the rider give up the ghost at the first faint sounds of sirens or the cries of his companions? Was it that serious? Yes it was. Was he in bad trouble? Yes he was. What went wrong? Did the rider have time to reflect and examine the chain of events that led to this desperate time in his life and death? Did he make amends?

If the soul remained with the body after it came to rest, after that ragdoll flight, and there was enough consciousness remaining, the rider might silently cry out in surprise or great pain. The rider might hear the cries of his friends as they run to him and try to talk to him – to talk him out of leaving. He might feel their touches, probing or desperate shakes. He might silently cry out in protest after the police had pronounced him too damaged, pronounced him dead, and covered him with a blanket, going back to cover the hand that peeked out from under it. Was Stars Air Ambulance called to stand down?

Yes they were.

Ride on.

Ride on as if each day, minute, and kilometer or mile were your last because they might very well be, but be mindful and situationally aware. Slow down a bit. Enjoy your surroundings. Enjoy the sights and sounds and your moving shadow when you catch sight of it. Take a few moments to listen to the clicking of your exhaust as it cools – after the switch of the ignition.

Allow yourself to enjoy what you love to do – the moments.

Find someone or something greater than yourself to care about.

Ride on.

Until you can’t do it or you don’t enjoy it anymore.

Find some other way to live meaningfully and purposefully before your soul leaves your body.

And best wishes to it when it does.