I’ve been struggling a lot with existential OCD lately, but for some reason, I’ve been fixating on the human body. And I can’t stop thinking about how incredible it is. Like, we’ve figured out how our bodies work, down to the smallest cell. We understand every pulse, every beat. We know how the heart—this intricate, delicate thing—keeps us alive without us ever having to ask it to. And if we did ask it to, it wouldn’t respond. It wouldn’t listen to our conscious brain. If your heart is failing, asking it to work wouldn’t do anything.
The heart itself is a masterpiece. It’s not just a pump; it's a rhythm, a beat that holds everything together. Four chambers, valves opening and closing with precision, blood flowing in perfect cycles, never missing a beat. It keeps us alive even when we’re not thinking about it, doesn’t need our permission to keep going. It works for us, endlessly, without complaint.
It’s kind of wild when you think about it. Our minds might spin out of control, but the body? The body’s got it all figured out, like it’s always working in the background, quietly supporting us. It’s beautiful that way—how the heart just keeps beating, how we keep going, even when we forget to appreciate it.
The most wonderful part, we can be us. I can be a conscious person, while my body is almost robotic, all to keep my consciousness here.
It’s scary sometimes, to think that we have no control. But right now, to me, it’s beautiful.