How lovely the body is. How unique. How unusual is its flowering, when we truly look at it, truly appreciate its wonder.
But we may not always appreciate its glory. For example we might berate our body for not being as beautiful or shapely as is fashionable during our time. Our body may have fine blond hairs growing from it while the trend of the day is for thick, curly black hair. Our body may be bad at accommodating peanuts and dairy produce or it may develop a heart condition. Our body may wrinkle and shrink — or none of these.
If we turn our attention to the quality of our brain and thinking ability it may be that we have a mind for mathematics and science, or a natural aptitude for the arts. Or both. We may have inherited several generations worth of big business building, or several generations of anxiety – or both. Perhaps our body is strong and able to carry heavy loads, perhaps not. Perhaps our brain is suited to a particular type of intelligence that is highly valued in the era we are born into? Perhaps not.
We enter this life with a body and brain of certain aptitude and we can have a hand in how we learn about, appreciate, evolve and play the cards we are dealt.
Let’s borrow a few lines from Arnold Bennet, and then close with a short snippet from Hafiz, shall we?
‘You are the most fascinating bit of machinery that ever was. Considering that we have to spend the whole of our lives in this human machine, considering that it is our sole means of contact and compromise with the rest of the world, we really do devote to it very little attention. When I say ‘we,’ I mean our inmost spirits, the instinctive part, the mystery within that exists. And when I say ‘the human machine’ I mean the brain and the body—and chiefly the brain. The expression of the soul by means of the brain and body is what we call the art of ‘living.’ We certainly do not learn this art at school to any appreciable extent.’
You need to become a penArnold Bennet, British Writer 1867-1931
In the Sun´s hand.
We need for the earth to sing
Through our pores and eyes.
The body will again become restless
Until your soul paints all its beauty
Upon the sky.