<\/p>\n
The terms <\/span><\/em>superficial and <\/em>deep are strictly confined to –from the introduction to Gray’s Anatomy of the Human Body<\/em>, 1918<\/p>\n Why is it that the human body can heal itself, but the mind cannot?<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Consider this. Tissue wrapped around tissue stretched across solid bone. The Now consider the brain. The thick ball of wound up wires. The Gordian organ Consider the fact that the two components of your body that do not heal are the This same mind, this same imagination machine that discovered pi and wrote Hamlet<\/em> Even worse than these complex creations, these human constructs, are nature’s Imagine an athlete with a broken ankle walking down the street. Imagine a boy There is the term emotional scars<\/em>. There is the idea of a broken But there is something that can save you or destroy. There is a point at which Six billion and counting, no repetition. Why is that?<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[57,352],"tags":[68,353],"class_list":["post-2497","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-cass","category-gsarchive","tag-cassander","tag-gs-archive-2004-2008"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2497","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2497"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2497\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2763,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2497\/revisions\/2763"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2497"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2497"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2497"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\ndescriptions of the relative depth from the surface of the various structures; <\/em>external
\nand <\/em>internal are reserved almost entirely for describing the walls of
\ncavities or of hollow viscera. In the case of the limbs the words <\/em>proximal
\nand <\/em>distal refer to the relative distance from the attached end of the
\nlimb.<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n
\nchambers of the heart, the walls of the arteries, the ligaments around the
\njoints. Consider the skin across the face, the unique flesh of the fingertips
\nof six billion and counting, no repetition. A cigarette kisses the back of the
\nhand, distorting cells and tissue, and the body burns. A letter’s edge bites
\nthe palm that holds it, slicing the skin open neatly. A knife forces itself
\ninto an arm, parting muscle, chipping bone. Consider the unconscious healing,
\nthe automatic revival of cells. Reconnection, reassembly, reiteration of
\nbiological formulas that simply put you back together, given enough time.<\/p>\n
\nthat is bigger on the inside than it appears to be from without. The frontal
\nlobe, the synapses between neurons, the enzymes and the inhibitors. The unique
\nlayers and coils of six billion and counting, no repetition. A parent or
\nsibling dies, distorting routine and emotions, and the mind burns. A friend
\nbites back at the palm that once held theirs, slicing confidence neatly. A lost
\nlover forces themselves into the unconscious, parting veils, chipping away at
\nmemory. Consider the absolute lack of healing, the stubborn refusal of the mind
\nto rejuvenate its cells. Rejection, retrogression, reiteration of psychological
\nfears that simply pull you apart, given enough time.<\/p>\n
\none that feels pain and the one that remembers pain.<\/p>\n
\nand designed the Hagia Sophia is given a thousand menial tasks a second. It
\ncorresponds objects to their names, measures distance and deciphers color,
\nreminds you to breathe. And it is because of these menial tasks that the mind
\nmust operate according to strict procedures. To save time, effort, to maintain
\nefficiency, it must reject nonessential information the senses feed it, it must
\ncondition itself to react according to previous situations, it must associate
\nnames with faces, faces with memories, memories with emotions, and for this
\nreason, we are torture victims, subjected to pain over and over again when the
\ncorresponding stimuli are present. A photograph of an old house that falls out
\nof a book. A love letter in the pocket of an old coat. An uninvited song on the
\njukebox.<\/p>\n
\ntriggers, prevalent and public: the scent of cold fur, the taste of saliva, the
\nsound of fruit falling to the ground. Something so obvious and unstoppable that
\nit resets the mind, warps time and space, resumes the pain, the loss, the fear
\nof that moment and keeps rewinding and replaying until you can physically
\nshudder or clench your fist or rub your eyes or run yourself so ragged and
\nexhausted that the injury is ignored in favor of a more primal routine of
\nphysical replenishment and survival. But the mind never heals these wounds,
\nonly distracts itself from them, hides them. There may be mental bandages and
\npsychological poultices, but these only cover the injury; what’s underneath
\nstill achingly churns and slowly bleeds soul.<\/p>\n
\nwho’s been in a car accident, a hundred cuts across his forearms from shattered
\nwindshield glass, standing in line for a movie. Imagine a woman with a domestic
\nviolence-induced bruise discoloring the right side of her face picking up a
\nphone. Imagine these wounds, these aberrations of tissue and membranes never
\nhealing. Imagine the cells refusing to duplicate and replace, the body refusing
\nto provide the necessary chemicals. Imagine having a black eye for the rest of
\nyour life. This is what’s happening inside of our heads<\/em>. And though the
\nman with the broken ankle will be able to walk normally again, though the car
\nwreck boy’s arms will turn smooth again, though the abused wife’s complexion
\nwill turn an even white again, the mental twin of that physical injury won’t
\nfade or, as a doctor might say, “come along nicely.” They will always carry
\nwith them the lost opportunity of that playoff game, the isolated fear of that
\ncar crash, the dry regret of ever allowing that man to…<\/p>\n
\nheart<\/em>. The phrase sick, twisted mind<\/em> has entered our vocabulary. We
\ninsist on trying to classify the brain as just another part of the body, as if
\nit could be sprained or paralyzed. But a body never has to question itself. A
\nlung never has to get away for a few days, an ear never has to just pull itself
\ntogether, a heart never has to be by itself for a while, or, at least, the
\norgan we call the heart. We even attempt to use the same process to fix
\nproblems of the body and mind: therapy. Rehabilitation begins with
\nre-education. But what succeeds with the body\u2014brute force and repetition, the
\nflexing of muscles, the sweat that coats the PT wards\u2014these are just quick
\nfixes in the analyst’s office. You may get something off your chest, but it
\nwon’t take the load off your mind.<\/p>\n
\nboth the brain and the body can be approached as one and the same: tolerance.
\nResistance. Immunity. No pain, no gain, they say. Muscles are defined through
\nexercise, constant movement forward, building, stretching, capable of more.
\nYour body can get used to pain. It can become just another stimulus on a list
\nof nonessentials: the sound of the television upstairs, the touch of your hair
\non your neck, the familiar smell of yourself. You can embrace the pain, the
\nregret, the harsh reality of what actually happened, and memorize the memory
\nuntil it means as much to you as a penny Abe-side down on the ground. This can
\nwork; it can relieve mild heartache for 8-12 hours a day. Or it can ruin you,
\nsterilize your daydreams, neuter your drive for love.<\/p>\n