physiology.

I have come to realize that physiology is all about balance and cause-and-effect. if one thing disturbs the inner peace that is your body, a mechanism, a motion, or an action is set forth to correct it. it's like a balancing act... teeter-totter, up and down, and around and around we go. everyday, we walk around without any concern for how we are living. or that with every breath we take, all the little cells in our body are dancing around frantically, moving things, holding onto precious things, letting go of the useless, ugly things in our lives.  and yet, in a moment, our body will fix itself. too much bicarb, or sodium, or potassium, or calcium or ADH or aldosterone, or any number of compounds, it's all under control. - on autopilot, cruise control. it's a well-oiled and experienced machine, with the responses already cocked and ready to fire. 


but the very essence of what makes us, well, us: our soul, our mind,our hearts, our character, our morality. whatever you want to call it. but that part of us, well, we have problems. we go through our whole lives fixing ourselves. we spend so much time patching up that broken heart, filling the empty hole in our soul, putting together the puzzle pieces of our sanity. we talk about our problems with therapists (or well meaning, but often times condescending, friends) until our throats are sore and our eyes are weary with tears. we write about the disappointments, the highs and lows. we spend energy, in volts and ounces and meters, thinking about that one moment over and over again. 


and i have come to realize that the two parts of us, physical and emotional, are two different halves of a whole. two twins that look nothing alike. on a normal day, our bodies are efficient, under control, functional. on a normal day, my mind would be lucky if it managed just one tiny moment of true functionality. 


-in general, i am just awed by our bodies, which does so much more in one day than I could ever hope to accomplish. 

a tidbit about me.

because people always say i'm quiet. as if it's a bad thing. as if i had nothing to offer, because i was too shy, too repressed, too isolated. sometimes, i need someone to see the me i see. see that i am just a girl who looks at the world sometimes through starry eyes and at others, through weathered and experienced eyes. 


sometimes, i need people to understand that though i am quiet, i have things to say. i have thoughts, such beautiful thoughts, and perhaps, that is why i am quiet. i am lost in the comforting sea of my own colors, visions, and recollections. 


it is a good place to be.

Disappointment.

Disappointment. It burns like acid down the throat, leaving a dry and bitter taste trailing behind it. 

Failure, too, feels like this to me. Like the after taste of something decidedly unpleasant and foul. I imagine it to be a slow, faded path, traveling leisurely, unknown to its host. It erodes at my insides, carves a beaten path, and wriggles itself into a niche. A niche that will never be gone, forever imprinted on my soul and conscience. I have recently felt this, like a parasite inside of me. It feeds on my sadness, my hard work, and my heart-- leaving nothing but the ruins of my perseverance in return. 


there are simply no lovely words. in fact, were i not now in a state of acceptance, i am sure i could think of some more words that are as blackened, disfigured, and as ugly as this feeling i feel now. to me, disappointment equals the loss of hard work, the loss of my sense of self and confidence. it means questioning who i am, should i be here, and ultimately- have i reached the end of my growth? is this my limit, my stopping point? can i push no further? have i reached my level of incompetence?

away from the sun.

At night, I run out from the house barefoot. I feel the cooling grass under my feet, slightly wet and dewy from the afternoon rains. I feel the damp soil of the earth beneath me, curling in between my toes. I feel rooted then, in this moment, with just me and the moon and the damp, damp earth. I imagine myself cocooned within a tree, wrapped in wispy twigs and the brittle old bark. Encased in the solid oak trunk, feeling more condensed as the number of rings of bark increases with age. The roots, thick and branching, reaching into the cooling earth for some relief from the balmy air of the night. I am bundled, nestled, held, nurtured -- away from the world in this one moment to myself. I can think clearly, I can see clearly, and I can feel without any boundaries. I often think I see the world through different eyes. When I see the stark oak in the expansive field, I do not imagine running freely in the grass. I picture myself as old as the tree, standing still and silent, through storm and tempest, through mother nature's wistful cries, through mother earth's sorrowful trembles. I am rooted, bound, and an innate part of the wondrous world.

The leaves, both green and gold, are reaching towards the sun, but I, I am always looking away from the sun. I much prefer the inside of my sturdy tree, cool and calm and collected.