What the Body Told

Though I rarely talk about the body, anyone who has read any of my writing knows that I am obsessed with and infatuated and mesmerized by the physical human body. The fact that the body is able to endure so much throughout one's life yet still maintains a sense of gracefulness is inspiring. On a poetic level it's beautiful. My body's boundaries have been tested with wild adventures as a child. It's been through emergency surgery. It even survived how many years of physical education? But it still has the power to conceive new shapes, to withstand restlessness for as long as possible, to have incredible sex. On a physical level it's wholly miraculous that the body is able to be tested with such binaries: that on one hand it fights off so much harm and on the other experiences such great pleasures.

Of course, the body does break down as we all know. Sometimes we're able to overcome, and other times we're not so fortunate. The unluckiest ones don't even get a chance to resist.

I have limited knowledge of how the body actually works. I passed health and biology classes, but there's a reason I'm not studying medicine. I'm a commoner who just happens to think about the mechanics of the body daily. Every morning when I walk to the subway my mind wanders to my legs. I mean, they're just two skinny (some might say "chicken-like") limbs, but they take so many strides and steps and sure, they're tired at the end of the day, but they get up and do it again and again.

Amputees often experience the sensation of a phantom limb. Imagine waking up because you feel an itch on your leg and when you go to scratch it you realize it's still missing, same as the day before. I have a few of my own phantom limbs in my life. People and places and things that I miss uncontrollably when they're not around. Those things are probably more related to my heart, however, while phantom limbs have been directly linked to brain impulses.

And that's another thing: heart vs. mind. Both are endlessly amazing for the life they provide us and the metaphors they offer artists. And they've been on my mind lately because of a passage I read out of a book where someone was quoted as preferring the heart over the mind because of its ability to repair itself more easily. Once the mind breaks down, it's seemingly broken forever. The heart is broken an infinite amount of times, but with the same amount of energy it has the ability to feel newfound compassion again, so long as the person wants it. This, I believe, is what keeps me from surrendering, from ever letting myself turn too bitter or cynical.

And really, this is what life is like recently: a heart that feels so much. A longing, a yearning. A happiness, a warmth. Most of all, a sense of "home." A place to unpack my things and rest. Yeah, that's it. Home.

Sometimes I'm afraid my body will give out on me. When my right eye feels blurrier than my left, I panic that I may be going blind. When I feel my heart literally skip a beat, I worry that I ate one cheeseburger too many. When my ear won't pop after I get off the airplane, I pray that I remember what I learned in ASL. But that's all background noise to the feats my body proves daily. One day maybe I'll give it some healthier exercise as a gift, but let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Turtle

Today is the twenty-second year of one of my favorite's. Happy Birthday, Cheena!

We've shared a lot of experiences. First there was moving into college. Then we spent three consecutive Thanksgivings together. Our first summer in Boston involved many late night retreats on her roof for wine. We've read poetry together, listened to music in bed together, and planned walks just for photography and gossip. When I'm craving a hot dog, she accompanies me to Spike's Junkyard Dogs. When I need to complain about school, she takes me to Happy Hour. And no one I've met is as talented and creative yet equally modest as she is. No one is more genuine and loyal. No one makes me laugh and enjoy life more than she can.

If it sounds like I have a big ol' crush on her, it's because I do. And I have since 2004.