A body. My body. I am within it, I am it, and I am experiencing it, and through it, I can also experience the world. Others experience the world through their own bodies, and when our bodies come into contact with each other, we make other experiences, perhaps ones that are shared, but different.
We become aware of the other body, by feeling an out of sync pulse when holding hands, or when breathing out words into each other's vicinity - be they affirmations of affection, or a simple statement like "How do you do today?"
I do not know how many countless and myriad, unknown biological and chemical process unceasingly occur, to keep me (and others) functioning and how the process works. I am not manually breathing, but you might be after reading that sentence. Sorry.
I'm aware of none of it, perhaps, except for the the rise and fall of my chest, or the occasional moments physical exertion makes me aware of my own beating heart.
Unless I am investigated or examined, or I sit still and quiet, and intentionally listen, explore, or touch. I am oblivious, beyond those desires of hunger, thirst, or whatever other whim my body's process inform my consciousness is a requirement.
The borderline between discomfort and pain is an interesting threshold, that varies for each and every person and their own experience. Sometimes the decision to act upon these stimuli is taken from us, such as when we might wonder why, and is there anything to stop us from. feeling this way?
I had been talking to a friend. He had some concerns which he was investigating with medical professionals. I wondered about that own part of my body while waiting for the bus on my way to work, one day, many years ago.
As though in sympathy, I felt a pain in that part of my body. A sharp, stabbing pain that was not natural, and was probably the manifestation of some anxiety or fear of my friend's welfare. It faded, and was gone as soon as it presented, but my thoughts were with my friend.
The bus arrived. I boarded. My thoughts wandered. The anxiety remained at a background level, and I was conscious that for some reason, for some moment, I was unconscious. My phone and wallet were on the floor of the seat, and I was sweating.
I called my boss at the time and told her what happened. I took myself to the hospital instead of the office. I was examined. They kept me overnight for observations after tests, and I was released. They suggested I go to a cardiologist, as there was no distinct symptoms int he aftermath of my lack of experience, and I was released.
A few weeks (or perhaps days) later, I was took my self to an office. Another office. It was there that an ultrasound was performed on my heart, to validate its function.
If the sound of your own mortality in the form of a heartbeat is a reminder of your inevitable, one day demise in a (hopefully) distant future, then hearing the chambers and vessels of the heart expand and contract, the fluid of your blood rushing and vacating those spaces is another affirmation of the ultimate fragility of our own life.
A photo I took in 2017 the day I heard my heart.
It is a simple affirmation that the body and our individual existence balances precariously in a certain band of temperature, humidity, PH, nutrition, hydration, oxygen saturation, mineral levels, and hundreds of other things I have no knowledge over.
I often take small solace in the statement of "ignorance is bliss," and when it comes to an awareness of my own vitality via hearing my own murmured heart beat or blood rushing past my ears, I try to ignore those things, and try to lean my focus onto the things that I can be conscious of, if only to stave off the anxious fragility of my own existence.
