Wasted

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I don't want to waste my time thinking about formulas, chemicals, and body plans. I don't want to waste my time thinking about complaints, pains, casualties, and deep bone aches. I want to let my spirit and soul run free, like children in an open field with the wide blue sky above them. The sun sparkling like champagne, glittering like soft teary eyes. I want the colors to absorb into my skin, forming patches of blended lovely messes. Messes of creativity and imagination and peace.

I don't want to think straight and logical and rational and perpendicular. I want to be organic, free flowing like a river carving its own path on the newborn earth. I don't want to waste my time listening to the droning of judicious voices, when all I feel is this high paced world spinning around me. I don't want to waste my time on high brow attitudes and intellect as my only companion. I want to hear the soft lullaby of the sea, rushes of sound and silence. I want to hear the whispers of legends of places I've never been. When you could discover and feel all that's in your heart, why would you want to cut open a heart and carve out a piece in a sterile silent room?

.. leena

Me.

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i am a medical student. but i have recently discovered (or rather rediscovered) the power of words and thought. i am trapped in a world of my making, in a world of science and industry, fast and scribbled notes that hardly make sense. in a world of scientific, etiological words like cauda equina and levator ani and pollicis brevis. where we examine bodies and see them as parts, like a mechanic would see a car, (what's out of order, what's not functioning?) instead of looking at symphonies of beauty in every inch of luminous skin, or admiring the glossy undertone of muscles. in a world brimming with the labyrinth of messy words and scalpels and dissecting the human body until all you see is raw aching skin and tired cut down nerves. until you hold each organ in your hand, feeling its weight and density, detached from the fact that this was a person. until you hold a heart in your hand, still and unbeating, changeless and hapless and then, you realize, perhaps you should examine your own heart, feel its weight, and hear its thoughts.

.. leena