The Universe Within
Today I went to an exhibition at the San Francisco Masonic Center called The Universe Within. It showed actual human cadavers that had been preserved by an interesting process of plasticization that leaves them looking pretty realistic but without the smell. Maybe a bit dry, but pretty realistic.
The bodies and organs were autopsied at Peking National University, where the plasticization process was developed. I'm not sure how they came to be on a tour of America, but I'm glad they are.
About 10 were whole-body specimens where various portions had been removed to emphasize certain systems, such as muscles or spine or digestive system. Many were put in whimsical poses-- riding a bike, throwing a baseball, sitting at a computer. One was split perfectly in two down the left-right axis and positioned so the two halves were reaching toward each other, left hand to right hand. And then there were many smaller exhibits of specific parts: the brain, lungs, knee joints, skeleton, arteries, face, reproductive systems, urinary systems, etc. All preserved in pretty close to natural form.
It. Was. Fascinating.
And it was packed. This was the last day of the exhibit, which they had already extended for an extra week, and people of all ages were there gawking. There were children (although no one under 13 was allowed in without an adult), college students, couples holding hands, and elderly people. Some were clearly doctors or surgeons bringing their families to get a look at what they see every day. Others were massage therapists, physical therapists, medical interns, and biology students, apparently doing a little studying. And many were simply interested.
I have heard that this exhibit provoked some protests in some places, but in the Bay Area, it was wildly popular. And why not? We've all got a body. And they all look pretty much the same inside. The meat portion of people just isn't all that different. Kinda gives you a perspective on all the people who you think are so radically different from you...
Since my frame of mind these days seems to be pondering impermanence, I took the opportunity to imagine my own body as I gazed as the cadavers stripped of flesh, with sinews twisted over bones, bulging livers jutting from below ribcages, and exposed brains sitting passively behind naked eye sockets. Me, too. Someday, me, too. That's all I am in the physical form.
It was fun to observe the responses of others, too. Some people, particularly the teenagers, commented on it being "gross" or "disgusting," while the older adults tended to be more sober. Many people commented on the parts of their bodies that were injured or malfunctioning-- the knee exhibit was a popular one for people to point out, "Look-- that's the part that's messed up!" or "My mom got that whole area replaced." Also the spine exhibit, the heart, and the lungs. People like to see the stuff that's hurting them, sort of like putting a face to a voice we've heard for a long time.
A very common response was to intellectualize the experience. Many doctors and students were there with significant others, pointing out the names of everything. "Oh, look there-- it's the posterior aspect of the gastrocnemius muscle. See how it has two compartments, one on the surface and one that's deeper? In the living body, there would be fascia separating them, but they've done a classic dissection here, where the fascia are removed so you can see the different compartments."
In some cases, these people were being clinically detached. They've been trained in the Western tradition of treating the physical body as a machine, and perhaps that is appropriate for a cadaver. But in some cases, I felt like asking them how they really felt when seeing the body stripped open like that. Did they feel any connection to their own body?
But this wasn't always the case with the intellectualizers. One man was explaining things to his mother, and I turned and asked him if he was a doctor or surgeon. He said no, he was a physical therapist, and was also training in something called Rolfing. This is apparently similar in spirit to the Feldenkrais method that I do, but is much more active. The goal is to position the body properly in relation to itself and to the field of gravity. Feldenkrais is about individual exploration using small movements, while Rolfing is apparently more about almost massage-like interaction with a Rolfing therapist.
When I mentioned Feldenkrais, the mother said she had eaten dinner with Moshe Feldenkrais! How cool. She also told me about her diagnosis-- some kind of nerve compression in her neck that was causing tremendous pain in her arms. The doctors told her she could have risky surgery, or she could wear a collar and take pain pills for the rest of her life. She did that for a month, then decided to take action herself.
She started on Rolfing and Pilates, and now she has greater range of movement in her neck than most people her age (around mid-60s). She still has to be conscious of how she moves, and if she forgets she might slip into bad posture and have some pain. But she knows how to move her body such that she has essentially recovered from this nerve compression. No surgery. No drugs and collar for life.
Take a lesson, Western medicine. The body should not be regarded as a mere machine until it is DEAD. I cheer every time I hear about someone who decided their doctor was wrong when he/she told them they had no more options except drugs or surgery.
I also enjoyed looking at people's facial expressions, and being aware of my own. It was generally one of fascination, but tinged with a bit a fear. We feel compelled to look at dead bodies, eviscerated bodies, exposed organs. But right there in that moment, we also face our own fear of death. Each of those cadavers we saw once was an alive human, with dreams, fears, a favorite color, a favorite dessert, and an opinion about politics. Where did all of that go when they were carved up, plasticized, and posed on a bicycle?
It is said that people who see exhibits like this often come away with a new dedication to eating healthy and exercising. It's just meat, and you want to take care of it.
I hope also that people will come away with a new dedication to kindness and tolerance and peace. We are all so fragile, and we are not so different. Is all that hatred and judgment really necessary?
The bodies and organs were autopsied at Peking National University, where the plasticization process was developed. I'm not sure how they came to be on a tour of America, but I'm glad they are.
About 10 were whole-body specimens where various portions had been removed to emphasize certain systems, such as muscles or spine or digestive system. Many were put in whimsical poses-- riding a bike, throwing a baseball, sitting at a computer. One was split perfectly in two down the left-right axis and positioned so the two halves were reaching toward each other, left hand to right hand. And then there were many smaller exhibits of specific parts: the brain, lungs, knee joints, skeleton, arteries, face, reproductive systems, urinary systems, etc. All preserved in pretty close to natural form.
It. Was. Fascinating.
And it was packed. This was the last day of the exhibit, which they had already extended for an extra week, and people of all ages were there gawking. There were children (although no one under 13 was allowed in without an adult), college students, couples holding hands, and elderly people. Some were clearly doctors or surgeons bringing their families to get a look at what they see every day. Others were massage therapists, physical therapists, medical interns, and biology students, apparently doing a little studying. And many were simply interested.
I have heard that this exhibit provoked some protests in some places, but in the Bay Area, it was wildly popular. And why not? We've all got a body. And they all look pretty much the same inside. The meat portion of people just isn't all that different. Kinda gives you a perspective on all the people who you think are so radically different from you...
Since my frame of mind these days seems to be pondering impermanence, I took the opportunity to imagine my own body as I gazed as the cadavers stripped of flesh, with sinews twisted over bones, bulging livers jutting from below ribcages, and exposed brains sitting passively behind naked eye sockets. Me, too. Someday, me, too. That's all I am in the physical form.
It was fun to observe the responses of others, too. Some people, particularly the teenagers, commented on it being "gross" or "disgusting," while the older adults tended to be more sober. Many people commented on the parts of their bodies that were injured or malfunctioning-- the knee exhibit was a popular one for people to point out, "Look-- that's the part that's messed up!" or "My mom got that whole area replaced." Also the spine exhibit, the heart, and the lungs. People like to see the stuff that's hurting them, sort of like putting a face to a voice we've heard for a long time.
A very common response was to intellectualize the experience. Many doctors and students were there with significant others, pointing out the names of everything. "Oh, look there-- it's the posterior aspect of the gastrocnemius muscle. See how it has two compartments, one on the surface and one that's deeper? In the living body, there would be fascia separating them, but they've done a classic dissection here, where the fascia are removed so you can see the different compartments."
In some cases, these people were being clinically detached. They've been trained in the Western tradition of treating the physical body as a machine, and perhaps that is appropriate for a cadaver. But in some cases, I felt like asking them how they really felt when seeing the body stripped open like that. Did they feel any connection to their own body?
But this wasn't always the case with the intellectualizers. One man was explaining things to his mother, and I turned and asked him if he was a doctor or surgeon. He said no, he was a physical therapist, and was also training in something called Rolfing. This is apparently similar in spirit to the Feldenkrais method that I do, but is much more active. The goal is to position the body properly in relation to itself and to the field of gravity. Feldenkrais is about individual exploration using small movements, while Rolfing is apparently more about almost massage-like interaction with a Rolfing therapist.
When I mentioned Feldenkrais, the mother said she had eaten dinner with Moshe Feldenkrais! How cool. She also told me about her diagnosis-- some kind of nerve compression in her neck that was causing tremendous pain in her arms. The doctors told her she could have risky surgery, or she could wear a collar and take pain pills for the rest of her life. She did that for a month, then decided to take action herself.
She started on Rolfing and Pilates, and now she has greater range of movement in her neck than most people her age (around mid-60s). She still has to be conscious of how she moves, and if she forgets she might slip into bad posture and have some pain. But she knows how to move her body such that she has essentially recovered from this nerve compression. No surgery. No drugs and collar for life.
Take a lesson, Western medicine. The body should not be regarded as a mere machine until it is DEAD. I cheer every time I hear about someone who decided their doctor was wrong when he/she told them they had no more options except drugs or surgery.
I also enjoyed looking at people's facial expressions, and being aware of my own. It was generally one of fascination, but tinged with a bit a fear. We feel compelled to look at dead bodies, eviscerated bodies, exposed organs. But right there in that moment, we also face our own fear of death. Each of those cadavers we saw once was an alive human, with dreams, fears, a favorite color, a favorite dessert, and an opinion about politics. Where did all of that go when they were carved up, plasticized, and posed on a bicycle?
It is said that people who see exhibits like this often come away with a new dedication to eating healthy and exercising. It's just meat, and you want to take care of it.
I hope also that people will come away with a new dedication to kindness and tolerance and peace. We are all so fragile, and we are not so different. Is all that hatred and judgment really necessary?
