Days two through five of honoring the body: mixed, with a slight chance of sunshine.
Thanks to the Writers Guild of America strike Fox aired the Christmas episode of "House" in late January, followed by two new episodes. (Have I mentioned that we love the irascible, nasty, brilliant, evangelically atheist diagnostician around here? Yes we do. We love him. Even as we are repulsed by him).
One of the new episodes was about a woman who had converted to Hasidism at the age of 38, and found both faith and a husband (with the assistance of a matchmaker). She had collapsed with internal bleeding during her wedding celebrations, and, as usual, House and the Cottages (we also love Television Without Pity) were at odds during the diagnostic process. House seized every opportunity during the course of the differential to question her convictions, even to impugn her sincerity by claiming she was a masochist who was secretly enjoying the painful procedures. At one point they were doing-- oh, help me here, a CT scan? Imaging her brain in real time, and watching it light up "like a Hannukah bush" as he said, in the areas of her cortex that would indicate pleasure. Only thing was... she was praying, as it turned out, which accounted for her pattern of brain function at the time.
I was mighty interested in this scene. I was interested in her colorful brain, brought on as a result of prayer. Where did I hear this recently? A man had... I don't know, an illness that resulted in something good happening to him. (That was specific and helpful! There was more to it than that.) Oh! It's the new TV show Eli Stone... which I have not seen, but which someone was describing to me. A man (Eli Stone) had a brain tumor which resulted in his seeing visions. The visions prompted him to do pro bono legal work for the poor and downtrodden. He was trying to understand all this, and a friend said, there are two explanations for everything: the scientific explanation and the divine explanation.
So I have been thinking about brightly lit cortices, mine included. Yesterday in church, during the prayers of the people, I felt myself slipping away as I prayed aloud, and someone else coming in... and my self-awareness kicked back in, and, I'm not sure I was resisting, but the sensation lessened. And my impluse had been to praise... to praise God, perhaps, in language unfamiliar to me, or at least less comfortable. It was frightening.
The colorful cortex.
Last night I managed to eat in a healthful way. I set myself an arbitrary time to stop eating, and my self-talk was about the fact that I am honoring my body by eating more moderately, as well as trying to ensure better sleep by not going to bed stuffed.
I felt well this morning. No sugar hangover. Thanks be to God. The colorful cortex.