Have you ever sat your body down and talked to and with it?
Have you ever ‘heard’ and understood your body’s communications to you?
I have a body that has been acting very obedient and effective for decades. Barring some issues which a human body can’t run away from, my body has been a good organic machine. It has a single nuance, though.
You know that whenever a body gets or gives anything, it communicates this via what we call sensations, and symptoms. For instance, if you try to feed your body a scalding cup of chocolate, it is wont to tell you the chocolate is too hot, by getting burned and rejecting the delicious stuff. Well, bodies present similar antics when infested, infected, or attacked by external foes (bacteria, viruses, bites, poisons, or other means of unfriendly impacts) or internal friend-turned-foes (such as antibodies gone mad, and others).
If your body was bit by a malaria parasite-carrying mosquito, and the parasite become virulent, and developed into malaria, the body will inform you via the artifices of ‘symptoms’, such as fever, cold, cramps, pains, headaches, stomach problems, dehydration, sleepiness, and a desire to abstain from food, among others. These are forms of communication of the body to the being.
Cold is “hey, boss, this environment is too cold” or whatever cause of the cold was, the body communicates to us, beings.
Well, my body hasn’t been acting in like manner for ages. For what may be termed serious ailments, it simply shut it ‘mouth’, refusing to avail me the sufferings that symptoms deliver to one, one’s mind, and the body itself – sufferings which enable one to act to avert the death of the body.
Once, I had a need to present a medical report that proved my body was capable of bearing the rigors of a program I was to partake. I went to a clinic and was examined by doctor, a fishy kind of man, I must say. He prodded my body’s chest with the snake-like stethoscope, and wrapped by body’s left arm with a band and pumping air into the bag of the band until my body’s arm felt like it was being squashed.
“You have high blood pressure! If you went into the program, your head will go boom!” The Indian doctor said.
“No. I don’t think I have any high blood pressure. I came here fast-walk almost three kilometers; could this make your reading wrong?” I asked, not taken into his hysteria-inducing statement.
“No. But, I’d run the test again.” He said, looking at me with a sympathy eye; the kind that a snake would reserve for an injured prey.
He ran his test again. He reported the same words. He added:
“You must get onto drugs right away!”
“Well, I feel fine. I don’t think I want to get onto any drugs.”
“You see, my friend, I’m just trying to help you. But, let me ask you. Do you feel headache? tired? short of breadth?” He enquired.
I scanned my memories, asked my body, its systems, and reported in the negative.
“My friend, this is dangerous. You must get onto drugs.” He said as he turned toward the interior of his clinic.
“Thank you, doctor. I’ll go get a second opinion.” And I left.
No symptoms. No communication from the body. Wicked body! Did it want to die?
Many times, more than I can count, I have had situations where my body feels just marvelously healthy, light, supersensitive. Once I think or spoke of this perfect condition, the body slumped the next morning at my attempt at waking it up. It’ll refused to get up, eat, drink, and even sleep; all the while no symptoms of headache, et al. So, I was just condemned to lie there where the damned fellow insisted it stays.
When these dramas had gone far enough the way I saw it and concluded, I promised to get to the roots of the game my body was playing.
So, one evening when it was at the peak of its obedience, I sat it down on a straight-backed chair.
“You know, body buddy, we got to talk!” I thought at the body.
“—-” It said.
“No! No. You have to communicate back, you know? Come, now, let’s have a two-way communication, will you?” I thought at it.
It started to sweat; a damp, sticky sort of sweat! The room temperature was just perfect; not cold nor hot. So why was the sweating?
“Okay, I’ll take that as a response, positive response. Why do you deny me the knowledge of what’s going on with you that’s capable of causing me problems?” I thought at my sweating body.
I waited for some sign, a signal.
I knew it got my message.
It twitched and sweated and the eyes started to blur, become hot and wet.
I kept on listening, waiting.
Then it came!
“I hate to whine. I know I can handle whatever happens to me.”
The thought was crude, heavy, depressive, but a thought it was!
And, to cap it all, I understood!
And, I whirl in pure excitement!
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Part two is on the way!