lying on the floor, i turned my head to the right and noticed my hand lying palm up, fingers slightly curled as muscles loosened. i wondered to myself if this is what my wrist, palm and fingers will look like just after i die. i expanded the thought and considered myself seriously dead, wondering about body position - will i be horizontal? will i be curled up? will i lie on my back, belly up, fierce toward the world? then i considered my death in action, and imagined myself taking my sharpest knife to my stomach, here on the floor.
then i stopped. who has thoughts like these? this is dangerous. or is it just taboo? let's keep going and find out. i was too tired to get off the floor and go to the kitchen to find the knife anyway, so i figured my laziness would win over my imagination, and keep me safe.
knife tip into stomach, right side. what would i find inside? could i reach in and pull anything out before i lost consciousness? could i have a look at my liver, my kidney, my heart before i go? what if i engineered this well and dissected my body before i died? could i chop myself up before i lost enough blood to have the strength to go on? next thought: i would tear up pieces of paper and write the names of loved ones. i would line the pieces of paper up across the floor and deposit the appropriate body part next to each piece, like an offering. or a museum exhibit. to whom would i give which part of me? i'd have to start at the bottom, i suppose. one toe per friend; hopefully no one would take offense to the implication of size differential between toes. who gets my heart? who gets my stomach? does any one person deserve my whole brain? could i divide it in half? that would have to be the final stroke before lights out, so i'd angle the fall just in front of the papers.
what struck me most about this process was not that fact that i was chopping myself up or offering my body to the people around me; rather, that i was considering who might take offense at the body part they were offered. would my mom be jealous if my father got my right brain? would more than one person expect my heart? what does an eyeball represent? protection? wisdom? humour? (who wants an eye, anyway?) i was concerned with whether or not people would be pleased with a portion of my decaying flesh, as an extension of myself. all i can do is laugh, and keep my knives in their drawer.
1 comment:
The Giver and receiver determine the value of these given parts differently.
If one receives the ass, are they a pervert? or a reliable comfortable seat for studying? If one gets the nails, are they insignificant? Or an itch reliever with enough space to express taste and fashion? or even a stress management tool?
People. Please don't call/text each other asking what you got and why he/she got which part. You don't have to justify anything to anyone. You might be surprised if someone you thought was included, didn't even make the list!
Not the point. The point is that these parts use to hold together the soul of you. Reminding us (people you blessed with your presences in one piece) that we were worthy of being included in your parts distribution activity.
If Death is bridge not a destination, than I'll gift rap your parts. Deliver them to their designated humans. I'll get blamed for your departure. Hopefully capital punishment is still a pass time activity in Taxes, and meet you on the other side of that bridge.
To keep your tradition alive, I'll check the "Organ Donor" box on my next driver license renewal. My parts wont have names like yours, so I don't have to worry about people taking offense. Especially since you are not on my list to begin with. I'll just keep the part you have given me (if I get one)
Its about time to show you how much you are worth. So keep your heart for you. You might need it after you cross the bridge.
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