…

 

I sometimes feel so confined by my being.

I find myself wanting to be faster, stronger, louder, softer, smarter, deeper, more creative.

But my mind and body have limitations that get in the way of my will.

I think if I didn’t have them I could be so much more. 

Like, I’ve always wanted to fly.  And I don’t mean piloting an airplane, or hang-gliding.  I mean legit Peter Pan-style levitation.  No, I’m not going to rehash the hilarious story of my attempts at reliving Peter Pan’s best moments.  You can read about that here.  But that hilarious story retells the first moment that I realized that I was not invincible, or able to do whatever the heck I wanted with my body.

I learned a similar lesson about my mind in Second Year Organic Chemistry.

I often imagine myself (my inner self, the one that’s limited only by my will…maybe my soul?) exploding out of my sternum (it lives in my thorax, obviously), laying waste to my ribcage and lungs and flying, golden – like Ariel’s voice in The Little Mermaid - off into the ether to do all those things my body won’t let me do because it’s slower, and weaker and hoarser and brasher and stupider and duller and more boring than I want it to be.

But then, of course, I wouldn’t have my body anymore and my experience of all the awesome things I could do without my body would be insensible…because I left the sensing part behind, ribcage splayed.  My body would be dead without that other inner part of me.

So…that’s a problem.