It is a wonder the tension that strings together the insides of our souls and self to the pinnings of the body. The brain or some shadow of consciousness that it projects, exists in a constant state of worry, making sure breathing keeps up with needs, that the heart maintains its side of the bargain and continues to beat with vigor. Then on top of it all there’s the issue of movement and senses, trying to make some sort of understanding of all that is going on in the present, in relation to the past, guessing what the future may be potentially. All of this is of course accomplished by an organ that is composed of grease mainly, and represents about 2% of the mass of the entire body.
Out of that organ, in orchestration with appendages, we glide through this life until some major component decides to take a holiday. Until that time of the ‘big sleep’, we are in a constant flux of creation. Contrary to what we may have been told about what is used or not in the brain, new information reveals that we pretty much use all of it throughout our daily life. All 100 billion cells that it is composed of at any given time are going about their day sorting and contributing to who we are to ourselves and to the outside world.
Why the interest in these dry and dusty things about mass and organs?
Because of the individual threads that are strung throughout the body, ever at a state of tension, energy flowing in a warm bath of chemical electricity. This is us and all higher order things that are equipped with complicated lives. In states of high function, whether it be an athlete on the 50 th kilometer of a 200 km race, or an artist working within their studio on something that baffles and bothers them to a state of anxiety, the higher the state of function, the greater every aspect flows. Both the athlete and the artist slip in and out of thoughts while in motion, thoughts that have nothing to do with the immediate action, but are associated by tiny filaments that underpin distant memories or emotions. In an elevated state of awareness, all manner of ghosts and fears may be found, as well as euphoric moments that are composed of lightness and glee.
In those memories, the ghosts, the sorrows, the tremendous joys discovered, we enter the work that we love. Out of compassion, generosity, the desire to recognize that small tangential truth that binds us to others, we move one foot in front of another, pulling air into our lungs, projecting the light of our lives out of our eyes into the world that crosses in and out of view.