Unraveling the Ancient Science of the Soul: Unique Perspectives from Aristotle and Animal Communication

One crisp autumn morning, Professor Rowan sprang out of bed so abruptly it seemed solemn chimes had burst inside him. Barely steady on his feet, he declared an idea fit for a true eccentric genius: 'Why not attach a state-of-the-art sensor to the ear of my donkey Luna, so I can measure her soul?' After all, who else would dream of figuring out a donkey's 'soul digit' if not a supremely confident researcher, festooned with wires like a gleaming holiday garland?

Enthralled by his discovery, he burst into the barn with a mighty stethoscope raised before him like the banner of a grand scientific crusade. Yet Luna the donkey regarded him with a calm, almost knowing stare, as though to ask: 'Professor, have you forgotten your own soul?' But Rowan ignored these unspoken questions—he was determined to prove that the grand secret of donkey existence could be locked away in equations and charts.

Thus the conflict arose. On one side stood a fiery devotee of charts and formulas, convinced that every essence could be itemized like the parts of a machine. On the other stood Luna, wise and faintly mocking, who seemed to hold all the answers to the trickiest questions yet preferred to offer only a peaceful 'hee-haw.' Meanwhile, the Professor firmly pointed to his instruments: 'We will uncover how your soul is put together, Luna.' She merely chewed her straw in calm acceptance, swishing her tail without a care. Each bray echoed in Rowan's mind, while one gentle flick of that tail transformed his tidy notes into a whirl of scribbles.

Before long, it became clear that the Professor was heading either for a nervous collapse or the birth of a brand-new science he dubbed donkeyology. The turning point came on a dreary day when Rowan discovered that Luna had daintily sampled his thorough philosophical treatise, choosing only the most crucial passages and turning them into a cluster of tasty holes. It felt like a silent mockery of that grand ambition to subject to formulas what simply refuses to squeeze into diagrams and calculations.

And then, as if a hidden switch suddenly flipped inside the Professor, he realized a delicate bridge was needed between his fervent urge to quantify everything and philosophy's quiet invitation to see beyond. Luna was clearly hinting that some things simply resist scientific scrutiny. Stunned, the Professor asked himself whether he had to throw away all his instruments or gather the torn pages and weave them into Luna's mane, in hopes of preserving at least a fragment of his ideas.

In that very moment, a crystal-clear piece of donkey wisdom bloomed in his mind: 'Be happy, Professor'—as though life itself were whispering that sometimes you just have to welcome the world in all its dazzling diversity, without corralling every wonder into a neat formula. The more wires and sensors he strung together, the louder the playful 'Eee-aw' echoed, guiding him back to the simple joy of being. Eventually, he saw that science and philosophy are just two boughs of one mighty 'OGOGO,' and when they join, every fragment melts into a harmonious whole.

Now the Professor looks back on his stethoscopic show with a warm smile. He still adores precise data, but he has learned that the soul cannot be pinned to any formula. After all, it is what makes us laugh, act a bit silly, and feel truly alive. And if we trust the Moon’s mischievous gaze, she seems to have known this wisdom from the very first ‘Ee‑aw.’ In the end, the real keeper of ‘great knowledge’ was not Rowan the genius, but his serene donkey, quietly reminding everyone that there is always room in the world for simple joys and small wonders.