“All we are, in the end, is a product of our context.” She continued to circle her fingers along the wood grooves thoughtfully. “A series of events that surround us and define us. You are what you are because of the life you have lived. Some of it was your doing, much of it was not. But it is what created you all the same.” “You mean to say that we do not have a soul.” “Oh, no, that is not what I am saying at all. But when we begin, we are a seedling. A tree, or a flower, or a great immortal redwood like yourself. Our soul defines our potential. But our context—bad winters, dry summers, a
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