Being an open letter to those experiencing some vagaries of discomfort, having exceeded the design specifications of homo sapiens sapiens:
The body that clothes your soul, your sense of feeling and fact and your vehicle of physical expression, arose out of some specific pressures over a few million years. It historically is called upon to outrun wolves by fifty miles a day and outfight the tigers whose teeth are swords. It is strong to these tasks, and lives on--is fueled by--stories and meaning, meat and nuts and berries, beauty, kith and kin (these last called commonly your tribe).
Traditionally it has perished with use at the ripe old age of thirty and five. Having, by the by, a stomach full of intesinal parasites, a head empty of teeth and cruel, cold, practiced wisdom.
Therefore, if you have over or radically underused these capacities, it will not be unusual if your body's instruments, your feelings, tell you from time to time that something is terribly,terribly wrong. Something usually is.
And even if there isn't, your body thinks you need something to complain about just to keep in practice anyway.
No comments:
Post a Comment