My view has always been a rather odd, spiritual one. The universe has a consciousness, and is aware of itself. But it has no senses. It can not see itself, and it's parts can not fully communicate with itself. So life is a tool by which the consciousness of the universe at large can begin to examine itself. This theory is best described by Kurt Vonnegut in his novel, Breakfast of Champions . In this novel, an author by the name of Kilgore Trout finds himself in a public restroom. On the wall is a bit of graffiti which reads "What is the purpose of life?" Trout, if he had any sort of writing tool, would have responded "To be the eyes and ears and conscience of the creator of the universe. You fool."

So, with the rules set up as they are, consciousness (thought, mind, psyche) is tied to body (brain, limbs, flesh and bones). But is is a separate, symbiotic thing. Almost as if (and feel free to chastise me for repeating myself from a previous post) we were radio receivers (body) which pick up messages from some non spacial plane (consciousness).

Or, and this bears thought, we are just smelly bags of mostly water who have electrical, mechanical impulses to do things, and say things. Ack. Am I a dualist? Or am I a pluralist? I don't want to be a monist. Monism makes life seem so mundane.