There’s certain body parts that seem weird to me. One of the ones that I really can stand is noses. When the pandemic started and everyone was wearing masks, the masks just emphasized the nose on people’s faces for me. I hated it when someone would cover their mouth with the mask, but let it slide off their nose. It did have anything to do with spreading germs. I didn’t like how it made their noses seem so much bigger on their face.
Sometimes, fingers and toes bother me, too. When people look at crabs, lobsters, or octopi in the ocean with all their appendages, they sometimes say that they look so weird and different like some alien creature. Then, I look at the human hand or foot and I see all these long little appendages coming off of them and I think that it is just as strange and alien and an octopus tentacle.
Maybe it is that I just don’t accept things as being normal as they are. It’s thoughts like these that make my skin crawl. When these thoughts get out of control, I feel like I am somehow an alien living inside of this human body and I feel trapped inside. I would do almost anything to get out and break free of the physical confines of the body that is my prison.
This week, I have been feeling that way, in particular because I keep accidentally hurting my hands. I burned both my hands on the oven. A carrots slipped while I was cutting it and I cut a finger on my right hand. I pinched my pinky finger on my right hand on my glasses’ case and I also scratched my right hand trying to open a box. It hasn’t been a good week for my right hand at all.
There’s a school of thought that believes that a frequent injury to the same part of the body means that the universe is trying to tell you something. I’m not sure what my right hand problems are trying to tell me, but it does make me wonder about wanting to escape.
There’s every reason to believe that all thought and emotion are just chemical reactions in the brain and yet for me it just doesn’t work. All my life, I felt like I didn’t belong here in this physical world and there was something greater. The fact that I feel alien inside my own body could mean that I have OCD or it could mean that the spiritual world exist and I am very aware of it. I have faith that the spirit exist.
More importantly, it really doesn’t matter what the reality is. Reality is the end result and is about proof and fact. Faith is about the journey. That’s what I’m all about. If I believe I have a spirit inside my body, then my journey is about that. If I believe God walks with me all the days of my life, then He does.
My faith saved me. May God’s peace reside in all of our hearts.
