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Pars Pro Toto

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I don’t like my hands. When looking at them, I often wonder why these old, wrinkly things are connected to me and my overflowing fountain of youth.

My thighs are not so cute either. They only appeal to me when I’ve been outdoors for months on end, in a sweltering hot climate that forces me to eat next to nothing and drink gallons of water. Slimmed down and covered with smooth skin, they finally look like they belong.

Then there are my toes. I can’t really put my finger on the reason why they look off, but they do, and so do my buttocks, and my nose, and my midsection, which has a love-hate relationship with my waist. (Can’t live with, can’t live without.)

It is the same with other people. There are tons of people I don’t particularly like, because of their crooked, deceitful nose, the hesitant plumpness of their arms, the lazy gait of their legs. Even in people that I love, I find physical traits I don’t like. I’m not ashamed to admit this. It would be a different story were I to embrace my dislike, making it impossible to use my hands, thighs, toes, buttocks, nose, midsection, or were I to avoid other people because of their looks. I have in the past, but I’ve learned that disowning the whole does not have to follow automatically upon disliking one or more parts.

I’m working on applying the same principle to consciousness. There are many parts of the collective consciousness that I do not like – parts that manifest themselves in disinterest for the well-being of others, parts that shun morals, parts that are drawn to the deepest and darkest corners of the universe.

There are parts that I would rather destroy than befriend, so strong is their predilection for the odious side of humanity. Inside of me, an army of fishwives occupies the shores on both sides of the flow, hacking away at devil fish while shouting parsonic things like “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you”. Daft creatures, they are, for their actions are not helping me cope at all.

I like being able to experience life from inside of a human body, with all that this entails. It is quite different from experiencing life from inside of a feline body, or from inside of a tree – all of which are worth their while as well. This alone is enough for me to forget my distaste for the looks of certain parts of my body, and be glad for their functionality. Without my hands, I could not prune bamboo. Without my thighs, I could sit nor walk. Without a midsection, my lungs would be all over the place.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, that I should try and see the ugly bits of consciousness for what they are: indispensible parts of the whole. And my love for the whole is stronger than my aversion to some of its parts.


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