The Empty Mirror
Chapter 74: Under the Skin
Under the scrutinising glow of the beautiful moon, I completed my ablution, with her as the silent witness to my actions. My countenance, hidden behind strands of hair that rivalled her radiance, was besieged by veils of blush, as I battled to suppress my most vile and abominable thoughts. I dared not give them voice, entrusting them only to the complicit solitude that the moon afforded me. Is this what they call love? That is what I dare to think... Wrapped in a celestial mantle of silk, I shielded myself from the cold of the night, naked in the penumbra of solitude. A charming whisper sprang from my lips: "Darling"... in search of warmth and shelter in the arms of that being, while I waited with a mix of longing and fear... After a moment, I noticed that my clothing was dry, with no signs of moisture. I remembered that it was the work of the anomaly... A hysterical laugh escaped from me as I understood that the aberration Ace of Wands now sheltered me in this forest. I dressed in the attire, although the atrocious and unreal stains persisted despite its apparent cleanliness. With my shoes as faithful squires, I ventured back into the thickness of the forest, walking with the certainty of one who understands that that event was nothing more than a fleeting mockery. I moved away from that place, knowing that that ephemeral moment would dilute in the course of time, although its disturbing influence would remain latent in the deepest part of my spirit…
I returned to the castle with feline steps, after a brief straying in the mysterious forest. The experience in that place was of such arcane nature that it defied all possibility of being shared. The forest, in its constant singularity, enveloped its essential quid as a veil that, although unsettling, acted as a healing balm. With extreme care, I placed my palm on the robust door of the castle, but my request was lost in the void. I entered with measure and closed the entrance behind me, immersing myself in the shadows that loomed over the ancient enclosure. In the penumbra, my pupils distinguished the silhouette of a man next to the majestic staircases. It was he whom I had contemplated inert on repeated occasions, whose face emulated that of a lugubrious jester, petrified in a pantomime of macabre makeup.
"E-Eh, greetings..." - my words, like trembling sighs, broke the oppressive silence that dominated the atmosphere as I approached his disturbing presence with modesty. In such an approach, it was impossible to ignore the incisive gaze of his scarlet eyes, which scrutinised me with an intensity that surpassed the earthly.
"Forgive my sudden intrusion, did you intend to cross the threshold?" - I inquired, wrapped in a contained expectation, longing to elicit some response from the well of his muteness. However, the enigmatic individual remained unaltered, without uttering a single vowel. His stillness and his gaze fixed on mine engendered a growing curiosity in my spirit, as well as a disquiet that took root in the depths of my being.
"Sir..." - I articulated, feeling a shiver run down my spine, while doubt coiled inside me like a serpent. And behold, his voice echoed in the penumbra with a solidity that lacerated like the claws of a feral entity, imbued with an ethereal hostility that unveiled an uncomfortable reality.
"You... are a liar..." - his assertions, imbued with an astral conviction, penetrated my being, releasing an unknown dread that lay in the abysses of my consciousness.
“Rrrrip rrrrip”
"What contraption is this in which I move?" he questioned, observing the corporeality of his being. "The body, that complex amalgam of flesh and bone, is it merely the sum of its parts or does it hold something more? Dissection and logia," he continued, "systems that operate in concert, organs that perform vital functions. But where does the essence of existence lie? In the ancient beating of an old heart, in the whisper of breath, or in the thought that now overwhelms me? Know thyself," the ancestral wisdom whispered to him. "Define your body, but do not limit yourself to what can be observed. Understand that you are a miniature world in the great cosmos. And if the being were merely a replica?" he questioned. "A reaction to something vaster, to a reality that escapes the senses? What meaning truly resides in having a body? Is corporeality a bridge between the material and spiritual world?" The questions flowed like a torrent, and uncertainty prevailed. "The human body, that marvel of nature, is it perhaps a temple, a prison, or both? How to define something that is in perpetual change, that ages and transforms with every passing moment?”
He turned his attention back to dissection and basic logia. "The body's systems," he reflected, "each with its purpose and intricate design. Is it not wonderful how everything, from the smallest organ to the most complex of assemblies, harmonises in a symphony of life? The constant flow of blood, with its throbbing heart, pumping the essence of life: blood. What would become of you without that rhythmic beating that accompanies you at every moment of existence?" he wondered. "And the lungs, expanding and contracting in a perpetual dance with the surrounding air. The exchange of acid formations, a vital transaction that keeps you anchored to this plane. The sensory organs," he continued, "windows to the outside reality. The eyes, which apprehend light and transform it into images. The ears, which capture vibrations and convert them into sounds. Is it not overwhelming that through them the world is experienced? And I cannot omit the organisation of nerves, that network of communication that coordinates every action and reaction. Strings that twinkle with the electricity of thoughts, transmitting messages at the speed of lightning. Is consciousness a by-product of this electrical activity, or is there something beyond the physical? The stomach assembly, the excitement regime, the tax-exempt structure... each with its specific function, but all intertwined. How could you understand the body without understanding the interdependence of these systems?”
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In the tireless quest for wisdom, he now ventured into the realms of the love of knowledge. "The body, that enigma that has baffled scholars throughout the ages," he contemplated. "From when the body was conceived as the prison of the soul, to exalting corporeality as the primordial form of existence in the world. However, with duality, it was taught that the body is ephemeral, subject to the world of imperfect forms. But is it not also the medium through which beauty and truth are experienced?" he questioned. "And what about those who considered the body and soul as a single substance, did this not encourage them to contemplate the unity of being? The mind of the body was fragmented, establishing a duality that has permeated thought. But is this disjunction as clear as it was posed?" he pondered. "There was talk of the unique substance, where body and mind are attributes of the divine. A vision that challenges the notion of separation and seeks harmony.
And we reach that threshold where the experience of the body invites you to reconsider the experience of the world. For those for whom the body is not an object among objects, but a being intertwined with reality, a living point of view. Is it not enlightening to reflect that the body is the epicentre from which the world unfolds? What does it mean to be a body? How does corporeality influence the perception of the world?" He paused and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. "The lodge teaches you to return to things themselves, to lived experience. But how to describe this subjective experience of inhabiting a body? How to convey the sensation of the sun's heat on the skin, or the freshness of the water flowing between the fingers, palpable even in its absence?" He opened his eyes and continued: "If I am a body, then what does its transformation imply? What happens to the being when the body ages in you, humans, when it changes shape, when it is modified or even transformed? Does it remain the same?" He sat down, resting his head between his hands. "And yet, despite all these questions, doubt persists. Will you ever fully understand corporeality, or will it always be an enigma that slips through the fingers of the collective mind?”
With the persistent question that challenged understanding itself, he debated in a sea of musings: "What does it mean to be a body in the world?" thus he continued his dissertation. "The treated being," he went on, "deals with being, with what is. But when we apply this to the body, we face a paradox. The body is tangible, it is materiality itself, and yet it is also the vehicle of the intangible: thoughts, emotions and spirit.” He rose solemnly and walked to the window, where he contemplated life unfolding beyond the glass, wrapped in dense darkness. "To be a body in the world is to participate in the dance of existence. It is to interact with other bodies, with the environment; it is to be affected and to affect in turn.” He returned to his seat of ancient lineage and leaned forward, intertwining his hands with parsimony. "But what does this tell us about identity? If the body changes, if it deteriorates or improves, does the essence also change? Or is there something immutable, something that does not depend on corporeality?" With a reflective gaze, he continued: "To be a body is to be thrown into the world, to have an existence that is always in relation to something else, with the being of things.” He sighed, aware of the complexity of his sorrow. "And yet, is not the body what anchors you to reality? Without it, how could you experience the world, how could we even talk about being?”
With delicacy, he stroked the white hairs that slid towards his eyes, resting them tenderly on his hair. Then, immersing himself in the depths of the intricate relationship between the body and the mind from a treatise perspective, he murmured: "The treatise of the mind has taught that the body and the mind are not separate entities, but influence each other in a constant dialogue. But how does this interaction manifest in life?" He paused, meditating. "When anxiety takes hold, the body responds with tension, while the breath becomes agitated. And when the body is exhausted, the mind clouds over and the mood fades. It is an incessant cycle, a choreography between the physical and the mental.” With a sigh, he continued: "And what about body image, that mental construction that can rise or fall into the deepest misery. The way they perceive their body deeply impacts their notion, their sense of identity.”
He stood up and began to wander from one side to the other, the words flowing with greater speed. "But then, what role do others play in this perception? In a society that incessantly bombards you with unattainable ideals of beauty, with rigid moulds that urge you to change, to 'improve'." He stopped in front of the imaginary audience, observing it with intensity. "How can you, oh humans, be genuine in a world that demands you to be others? How can you accept your body as it is, with all its imperfections, with its inherent mortality? Perhaps the key lies in balance, in finding harmony between body and mind. In recognising that each influences the other, and that caring for both is caring for the integrity of the being, or in destroying the virginity of the body.”
He continued with his discourse, his tone imbued with reflection. "Is the body simply a congregation of organs and systems, or does something deeper lie in this flesh and bone?" He paced the room slowly, each step marked by a new question. "How can the mind, such an ethereal entity, exert such influence over the perception of the physical self? Is self-esteem perhaps a manifestation of the body, or rather is the body a manifestation of esteem?" Contemplative, he continued: "The reflection, is it truly a reflection of yourselves or rather a social construction that you have learned to assume as your own? How to discern between what you are and what is expected of you?" His mind was entangled in the web of the duality of human existence. "If I alter my body through a disguise, a change of appearance or even a metamorphosis into a wolf, will I also modify my essence? Or will my essence remain unaltered, immutable in the face of physical mutations?" Scholars have held heated debates for centuries about the nature of being, but what do the scholars of the mind contribute regarding how being influences the perception of the body? Perhaps the real question does not lie in how the body is looked at, but in why it is looked at in the way it is. What mysterious mental factors are at play in this process?”