A few nights ago, as I turned to yet another angle in hopes of finding that sweet spot which would eventually lead me into sleep, I found myself in a position which, to my surprise, allowed me to feel and hear my beating heart very clearly.
Why it surprised me, I don’t know. I guess it just goes to show how unaware I am of this most basic and vital organ within me, and how taken for granted it is.
I listened, as the heartbeats came, relentlessly, steadily, continuously. I felt a sudden jolt of realization at how hard my heart was working. With this jolt of realization came a sudden pang of worry. I suddenly comprehended how my entire physical existence basically comes down to this rhythmic ostinato – the beating of my heart.
“Don’t you get tired?” I asked silently.
There was no reply, none that I could hear, anyway. The thudding bass line continued, ringing in my ears.
I felt a little sorry for my heart at that moment, having to work so hard for so many years without a break. The fact that I am able to sit and type all these out is testimony to its hard work. It is so human, yet so mechanical. I felt smaller, and much more contemplative about the grand scheme of things. When it comes down to it, we realise that even the ability to take our next breath is something to be thankful for.
“People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is… To walk on earth. Every day we are engaged in a miracle we don’t even recognize: A blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child – Our own two eyes. All is a miracle.”– Thich Nhat Hanh