Jamie123

I was wondering whether to mention that usage of the word. I wonder if it comes from the legal term "malus animus" (bad motivation).

I don't think the idea would have occurred to me if I hadn't encountered it elsewhere - but it's there if you look for it. I gave two examples: Wordsworth and Philip Pullman. Wordsworth is a tiny bit ambiguous - we have "the soul that rises with us" but later "trailing clouds of glory do we come". There's Psalm 42: "Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me?" Is the Psalmist talking to himself, or to some spiritual companion? (Or perhaps in a sense both.) Another (much sillier) example: in the Simpsons, Bart "sells" his soul to Millhouse for ten bucks, but then dreams that all the other children (even Nelson the bully) have companion selves, while he is all alone. Millhouse meanwhile has not only his own companion self tagging along, but Bart's*. Its a joke of course, but I think it illustrates a particular way souls are perceived. *Spoiler: Millhouse eventually gives Bart's "soul" to Comic Book Guy in return for pogs. (Bart: "You sold my soul for pogs????!!!!") But Lisa kindly buys it back for him, so it all ends well. EDIT: found a clip...

It makes sense: we have - Wife/wives Elf/elves Shelf/shelves Hoof/hooves I Googled it too. It seems that "rooves" was largely replaced by "roofs" some time in the 18th century, but is still used somewhat (though not often enough to be "considered standard"). There is some discussion about it here https://english.stackexchange.com/questions/13183/plural-of-roof#:~:text=Apparently both roofs and rooves,is used more than another. A partially relevant parallel: The plural of dwarf always used to be dwarfs (as in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs) but J.R.R. Tolkien started a trend when he used dwarves in The Hobbit and later in The Lord of the Rings. Nowadays nearly everyone says dwarves - though only when referring to the mythological beings, not people with dwarfism.

The existence of air was not always obvious. Empedocles, who lived about 450BC, discovered it by lowering an inverted bucket in a tank of water and showing that the water did not rise inside the bucket. He reasoned the bucket must be filled with some ultra-fine substance that held the water back: what we now call "air". (Although he didn't know it at the time, he had also invented the diving bell.) Prior to that (I suppose) people must have known about wind. After all, they had sailing ships long before that. But maybe they just considered it a "phenomenon" and left it there. They knew by experience that by hanging up a sheet of fabric they could propel a boat across water, and the same force (whatever it was) sometimes knocked trees over, or pulled the rooves off houses. But they didn't know it had anything to do with "matter" - like the liquids and solids they could see and feel. Along with fire, these make up the four "classical elements" - it seems quaint now (the sort of thing New Agers talk about) but at the time it was really quite a scientific breakthrough. But I wonder - if Joseph Smith was right, perhaps we're now in a similar position regarding what we call "spirit". Like air, it could be everywhere only we don't know it - except of course when it moves or does something. And if it is really physical, perhaps one day we will build apparatus that can detect it. A fictional account springs to mind: Dan Brown's novel The Lost Key. The scientist heroine (you'll remember that Professor Langdon - like James Bond - has a different female companion in every novel) performs an experiment on her dying mentor, whereby she monitors his weight during his death. She finds that he gets slightly lighter as he dies, proving that his spirit/soul has mass. (Of course the evidence is lost when her laboratory is "exploded" by the bad-guys, but that's typical Dan Brown.) It's trashy pulp-fiction of course, but it shows the idea is out there!

P.S. Now we're on the subject of Mr. Spock, when I was about 6 years old they started putting promotional Star Trek cut-out masks on the backs of Kellogs Corn Flakes boxes. I really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really wanted to be Mr. Spock. The trouble was, so did every other kid. My mother and I checked out every box of Corn Flakes in the entire store, but we couldn't find a single Spock. I had to be content with Captain Kirk, but that wasn't down to any fault of me Mum. She kept on going till we'd checked every single box. That's the kind of mother she was.

Spirit is a funny word - you rarely see it defined. But most of us (okok - some of us including me) have an intuitive idea what it means in this sense. But the origins of the word are interesting: Spirit comes from Latin "spiritus" which literally means breath or wind. It's where we get the word "respiration". The NT Greek word is "pneuma" which has exactly the same usage. From it we get "pneumatic" and "pneumonia". Both have "movement of air" as their primary meaning, used as an analogy for the supernatural sense. I know nothing about ancient Germanic, but the modern German is "geist". Hence poltergeist, and in English ghost. I was tempted to compare it with the English gust (as in a gust of wind) which would again suggest a "moving air" analogy, but now I look it up I find "gust" comes from the Old Norse for "apetite" (cf. gusto). Are gust and geist really false friends? Something to look into. We use "spirit" to mean other things like hydrocarbon compounds (including gasoline and alcohol) and attitude ("That's the right spirit!"). Geist is also used in the latter sense, as in "zeitgeist" - the "attitude of the age". It's also worth mentioning the Latin word "animus" (feminine "anima"), though this is usually translated as soul rather than spirit*. This implies motion, as in "animation" and "animal". So you could say animals do have souls because that's what the word means - though it probably just means that they move, whereas plants generally don't. *I don't understand the difference between soul and spirit. I've read somewhere that LDS believe the "soul" is the spirit and body combined. But there's a persistent notion elsewhere that the "soul" is something separate that accompanies us. A bit like conscience: your soul is to you what Jiminy Cricket was to Pinocchio. Wordsmith wrote "The soul that rises with us, our life's star". There were the "daemons" in Philip Pullman's novels. Etc etc etc.

There was a James Bond movie (I can't remember the title) in which the female protagonist is called "Goodnight". At the end, when Bond is having amorous alone-time with Goodnight (as he usually is with his leading lady at the end of every movie) M is trying to contact them on the radio. He says "Goodnight. Can you hear me Goodnight? Come in Goodnight. Goodnight. Goodnight." Eventually Bond picks up the microphone and says "Good night, sir." Cue credits. That sent everyone in my family into hysterics the first time we saw it. I meanwhile was thinking (in my usual cynical way) that that was the whole reason why she was called "Goodnight" in the first place. Her name was a setup for a joke in the last ten seconds of the movie! P.S. I just looked it up. It was The Man With The Golden Gun. James Bond was Roger Moore and Goodnight was Britt Eckland.

My own "humanistic rationaliy" makes me think "probably nothing". At the time I was - or had been - very excited about Mormonism, which seemed like the Holy Grail. It answered, at least superficially, many of the problems I had with mainstream Christianity, which in the years prior to that had sent me spiralling into atheism. I was thinking "can this really be?" I was always deeply mistrustful of "religious experience". As a student I had felt isolated amongst Christians - especially in "House groups" and "Bible studies" - being physically present and participating, but finding the emotional praying and arm waving had little to do with me. The doctrines, particularly those about Hell and predestination made no sense at all. (Not that most people were very big on hell or predestination, but that these things were tolerated at all was anathema to me.) And that's not all: before I even learned about the Calvinist/Armanianist "thing", there was the whole malarkey of the Gifts of the Spirit - speaking in tongues - you know the sort of thing. It bugged me how casually and matter-of-factly it was accepted, and how no one could understand why I had an issue with it. (Them: "It's the Holy Spirit, that's all it is!" Me: "What do you mean all?") My initial hopes about the Latter-day Saints were turning (I suspect) into a disillusionment that perhaps, underneath the gloss and despite the "we do not believe in predestination, it is a false doctrine" (an actual quote from a GA in a conference video, which buoyed me up incredibly when I first heard it), this was really just more of the same. And like NT says, emotions can have strange effects. I wonder too, since I'm seeing this through the fog of 33 years (it was 1991 by the way, not 1992) whether my memory has built this particular experience into something more significant than it was. But I think not.

I remember that show. It was very funny. Les had an "office" consisting of tape on the floor around his desk, and everyone who came to see him had to pretend to go through the "door".

Remind me - is Smoke the new kitty? Klaw's friend?

I have often thought of telling this story, but something has always held me back. It may not sound like very much, but somehow it's always stayed vivid in my mind. Perhaps it's time I saw what others made of it. It was in 1992 - 32 years ago. It was not too long after my first meeting with the first pair of missionaries who taught me. They invited me to a "fireside" at the church, which was to be led by a certain President Johnson - the "Area President". They were all excited about having such an important man come to talk. I didn't understand what was so special about an "Area President", but I could tell that this was a very big deal for them. One of the missionaries had written to me saying it was very important that I should come, because it was mostly for the benefit of investigators. Anyway I went. I was sitting there waiting for it to start when this particular missionary came to talk to me. (I wont tell you her "missionary name", but her first name was Veronica. She was a thoroughly nice girl and totally enthusiastic about her work.) People were coming into the church and I asked her if most of these were investigators. She looked a bit embarrassed and admitted that most were members, but she said that she had hoped there would be more nonmembers there. That was when what I can only describe as a "black mood" started to settle on me. Anyway, President Johnson started his talk. He told the story of his conversion. Yes, he was a convert. Not even a child convert (as some who claim to be converts are if you probe them deeply enough). No, he was an adult convert. He had been converted as a young man, through his future wife who introduced him to the Church. But the more he talked, somehow the darker my mood became. I began to feel a totally irrational anger towards him, and a hatred of the whole place I was in. After the meeting came the chatty-chatty time. A few people tried to engage me in conversation, including Veronica and her companion (whose name was Janelle) but I had little to say to them. I felt horrible - like I was suffocating. I could only bear it for a few minutes after which I went out to my car and drove home. Back home, all alone, I felt worse. Everything was meaningless and empty. I remember looking up the stairwell into the gloom above and thinking "I can't stand this". So after about ten minutes, not knowing what else to do, I got back into my car and drove back to the meeting house. The party was just starting to break up as I slipped back in amongst the members. I don't think any of them had noticed I'd been gone, and I had a good many offers of a lift home (which of course I politely declined because I had my own car). But funnily enough the mood was now lifting. I wasn't angry anymore. I wasn't struck with an overwhelming joy, like I "knew it was all true" but the blackness were clearing. I felt normal again. And that's it really. I don't remember feeling anything quite like it before or since. Recently I watched a YouTube video by "A----a G------l" (I wouldn't mention any Anti-Mormon's name here) where she describes how she lost her testimony. Part of what she describes does sound similar to what happened to me, but without the last part. For me it was not the going away but the returning which took away the blackness. I never told this to anyone before now. Not even Veronica and Janelle - not that I didn't like or trust them, but something always held me back. Anyway that's the story. The experience didn't lead me towards, or particularly away from the Church, but I have always found it curious.

I've known similar situations. You get an inner clique of people who run nearly everything. You get a similar thing in student Christian societies too, when the officers choose their own successors for the next year.

Hmmm....very amusing. But I thought we'd find out what was behind the door!

Funnily enough I've had that book on my shelf for about 20 years, but never got round to reading it. Now I'm intrigued enough to read it I'll probably find it's missing.

Do you mean the same as our spirits? Or the same as they were in mortality? Or the same as each other? I was vaguely imagining that a human would have a human spirit, and a cat would become a spirit cat, and a tick a spirit tick.

I know what I'm beginning to sound like: I couldn't find the clip but a little bit later: Bart: What about a robot with a human brain? Teacher: (pulling her hair out) I don't know! Is a bit of blind faith too much to ask?

Perhaps I overthink these things, but do all animals have spirits? I can understand it for our cats and dogs, but what about the ticks we pull off them? Or the fleas we kill when we de-louse our pets? What about carpet mites and bed bugs and cockroaches and greenfly and the midges that bite you when you're camping (and never get any fewer no matter how many you swat)? They are all animals too.

I sometimes think I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of things I can make sense of... Edit: No actually that's hyperbole. The Bible helps me. I read it every day, and it gives me strength even when I don't understand it (which is a lot of the time). And my daughter is talking to me again. I do have a very good friend in America whose e-mail address has suddenly vanished along with her Facebook page. I don't have her new address either, so I have no idea if she's alive or not. But God knows, and I am entrusting her to His care. I have a lot to be thankful for.

I'm not talking about my particular parish, but the Church in general. Poor old Justin Welby (the Archbishop of Canterbury) is in the impossible position of trying to please everyone - the conservatives like me (and by modern C of E standards I am very conservative) and the "God is a Gas" gang. I don't envy him one tiny little bit. That is, I suspect, pretty much where she is. I certainly haven't helped. What could I have done differently? I could have said "no Tarot in this house" and "keep those dreamcatchers away from our bed" in a patriarchal tone of voice. Perhaps if I'd shown a bit of faith and backbone it would have worked. I suspect probably it would have driven her away sooner into a life of no-Church (not even Church of England) and unbridled New-Age chicanery. And to say that I "shouldn't have married her in the first place" would be to wish my daughter out of existence. (OK...maybe not...premortal spirits etc... let's not go there.) But either way, we are where we are... I'm just praying to God for guidance.

I'm having exactly the same problem! Haha!

Try telling her that. I think her overall view is that there are many spiritual forces at work, some good some evil, and not all of the the good ones have anything to do with Christianity. Or at least not organized Christianity- and certainly not the Church of England. (Though that's turning into a bit of an "anything-goes fest". I've more than once thought of joining GAFCON instead.) That's the impression I get from her anyway. (I shouldn't try to speak for her any more than I should for our friend Carb.) From what I've read of Doreen Virtue (pre-conversion) it's all about "Ascended Masters" - of which Jesus is only one. (If you want the names of some more, I believe they include Krishna, Budda, Joseph Smith and Mahatma Gandhi.) This is precisely what I worry about. She and I are in some ways opposites. C.S. Lewis once wrote: I'm at least verging on the first - the semi-materialist. I do believe in the Devil, but not in the matter-of-fact way that a more "spiritual" person would. She's the second - the New Ager (though no New Ager would admit to being in contact with the Devil).

Embracing doubts can easily prevent faith from functioning at all. Doubt is far easier than faith, IMO. "Doubt your doubts before you doubt your faith". I like that. I think this is what Tennyson meant by "honest doubt". I've quoted that poor man to death I know, but I'll quote him once more for luck... "But ever strove to make it true..."

I appreciate your advice, Zil, but in my defence I did not attempt to tell Carb what he knew or believed. I merely made suggestions about how we (humans) deal with metaphysical propositions such as life after death, which he was quite at liberty to disagree with. Perhaps I was wrong to extrapolate my own experiences to "most people" and I also phrased it badly. It's not the first time I've gotten into trouble for bad phraseology. Well absolutely. If I was to tell you that I went down to the river this morning and saw a turtle with an elephant's head and giraffe's legs paddling upstream on a surfboard, you would quite reasonably suspect that: (i) I saw something that looked like a turtle with an elephant's head and giraffe's legs paddling upstream on a surfboard but actually wasn't, or (ii) I was having some kind of psychotic episode, or (iii) I'd been at the "funny fags" (I believe "wacky tobaccy" is the phrase you use) or (iv) I was telling a whopping great fib. You might perhaps entertain the fifth possibility that I really had seen such a creature, but if you'd admitted to considering the first four explanations, there would be little point me saying "you've not lived my life, and you've not seen what I've seen" and stumping off in a mard*. Having said that, I am finding this dialogue very interesting and (I hope) useful, and I'm grateful to everyone (even Carb). Perhaps I should explain a little more about my own journey. My wife (yes...yes...the same wife I am always moaning about) claims she sees spirits and angels. On the rare occasions I've said to her "I know you think you see these things" or "imagination can be very strong" it's never gone down very well. (In her position I probably would find it patronizing.) So it's a mystery about her I've learned to accept. There are a lot of things in this world I don't understand, and that's one of them. Before you jump too quickly to my wife's defence, you'd better know that she also filled the house with dreamcatchers, tarot decks, crystals (with supposedly mystical properties) and books written by Doreen Virtue before she (Doreen Virtue) became a Christian. She's also dragged me to Tarot readings and "services" at the Kingston Spiritualist Church, and she's as adamant about all those things as she is about her "angels and dead people". So I think you can understand why I have some degree of skepticism about "spiritual experiences". I am trying to build bridges with her right now, which is possibly why God has allowed me to get into this conversation. The fact that I have difficulty with these things does not mean I am not open, nor trying to understand. I'm hoping it will help. *A sulk. I was brought up in Leicestershire.

Well of course I do. There would be little point in this dialogue otherwise. (I'm not interested in talking to a sounding board.) What bugged me about Carb's response was his pronouncement that I was "closed to anything else" and that "there was no point discussing it further". He was doing exactly the same thing to me that he was accusing me of doing to him.

I disagree with the bold parts, though I can understand why someone might perceive it that way. Maybe you're right. But it's odd that Jesus would have phrased it as a question if there was not some kind of doubt - or at least vulnerability - in his mind. At face value the answer was obvious - it was necessary to work the atonement. At that moment, during the absolute anguish of his separation from his Father, doubt crept in. And I don't think that takes anything away - it enforces the fact that he WAS human, like us.