The peril of abstract thought.

My consciousness. My stream of thought. My awareness. Erupts. From my life experience. Or so I assume. I’d probably be quite different.  Perhaps unrecognizable. From who and what I am today. If I had been raised. In a different culture. In a different place. Causing me to wonder. How the essence of my being. Comes about. Perhaps I was born. With a clean slate. With a blank soul. And given the opportunity. To create my own soul. Letting it evolve. Naturally. In reaction. To the events in my convoluted life. Yes, that’s the way I choose to think. In the abstract. Thereby leaving everyone thoroughly confused --Jim Broede