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A pulse… that one-day-it-will-stop indication of life. A heart-beating or beating of a heart we are so used to that do not even pay attention to and forget that it exists. A friend of mine is scared of feeling a pulse. To him it resembles placing a finger across someone’s life, he feels the pulsing steam under the skin and realizes how weak and tender our body really is, and how easy it is to break. I always make a counterargument saying that we are perfect; a body that repairs itself and changes itself every moment of its existence is a perfect machine. It is a beauty of a human body, the genius of its design and engineering that always capture my thought.
How something designed so perfectly can break? A point mutation in billions and billions of base pairs, a single error in a word on a page of a book stored in the largest library, a single chemical reaction between two molecules which took a wrong route and was never stopped can result in the most terrible accident leaving someone disabled or dead. Somehow our body can take any torture we made it go through: pollution and radiation, absence of physical activity and healthy food, smoking and alcohol; it fixes itself, fights against our life style, survives all viral and bacterial infections, and even manages to renew itself. But once it breaks, it breaks. It resembles an army of samurais who commit seppuku upon death of their master. The moment one link in a chain fails the whole organism gradually collapses. May be we are too complicated? Maybe the same reason which allows our body to finely control each process, is its doom? Maybe we are tender and easily breakable and just the fact that our heart never makes a stop or takes a brake is a miracle? Maybe sensing a pulse under the skin is a miracle?
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Posted by run_tiger_run on 2008-01-26 22:08:21 | Rating: | Views: 42
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