A snapshot in time
It was 1pm, and I was sitting in a meeting. Pen poised over my notebook, ready to document more thoughts from the instructor whose name was on the syllabus to teach us about symptomology and the nervous system.
“Ali,” She said to me, “I want you to get here 5 minutes before you did.”
My brain spun in circles, “Like for our next class you want me to get here at 12:55?”
“No. Today, for this class, I want you to get here 5 minutes earlier than you did.”
After spinning this story in my head trying to find an angle where I could comply with her request, I said “That’s impossible.”
“Why?” She smiled, like I was finally getting the point she was trying to make.
“Because that would require me going back in time and I can’t do that. I can show up earlier next class, but I can’t go back and show up earlier today.”
“Exactly,” She grinned before continuing on with her illustration. There is no going back, no changing the past. The me who showed up for class no longer exists, and it’s impossible for me to change her behaviour. I can make changes moving forward, but I can’t go back.
I recently passed the 5 year post transplant mark, and reaching such a milestone comes with tests to evaluate current health. I slid right into my 5 year evaluations as I slid into the “October slide.” It means there was a loud conversation happening in my body at the same time it was being looked at under a microscope. A bit nerve inducing, definitely, but it also allowed me a glimpse into the conversation I wouldn’t have had otherwise.
As the test results trickled in, what we saw wasn’t separate organs doing separate functions but each part of my body talking to another part. My kidneys told a story of what was happening to my nervous system, my liver reflected what was happening in my kidneys. Looking at each part in isolation - which is what traditional western medicine does when it comes to specialties and organs- would reveal a fractured image of what was happening in my body. But if we zoomed out, and looked at the body as a whole, things started to make a lot more sense.
Test results, I thought on the drive home, are a lot like that lesson my teacher tried to illustrate in class by asking me to arrive 5 minutes earlier than I had. The results held a snapshot, a moment in time, and while we all sat and looked at the snapshot the conversation continued. My kidneys kept talking to my heart kept talking to my liver.
I could try new things in hopes of changing the snapshot going forward, but it was and is impossible for me to change that snapshot, of that moment. That moment no longer exists, and I can’t change what has already happened.
One of the things we learn in studying the field of somatics is that the nervous system is constantly trying to protect you. Everything has a purpose, and is an adaptation. Even if to the logical mind that adaptation doesn’t make sense. When we look at a singular adaptation as just that - a stand alone adaptation - we miss the bigger picture. Why did this adaptation occur? Where did it come from? Why would the body think it’s helpful to produce this response now?
As I reviewed records on MyChart and ruminated on results I thought of this principle. If I zoomed in on a single test result, I would miss the forest for the trees. There is no understanding one adaptation without understanding my entire body story. The story, and the conversation, is ever evolving.
Absolutely there are things I can do to influence the conversation, or support my body. But when we lose sight of the conversation, and instead focus on managing or controlling the body expressions based on a single snapshot of information, we’re missing out on the larger story that is unfolding.
Your body story, and mine, aren’t things that can be quantified by numbers or narrowed down into test results. Those are static, and your body is anything but. The reactions of my body are part of a broader narrative, with adaptations stretching as far back as my life does that make so much sense in context, even if out of context they look like pathology. The story is constantly unfolding, the question is are we paying attention?
Curious about making sense of your own body story? Looking for support as you navigate the unfolding narrative? I’m currently accepting new coaching clients for fall/winter 2025 and I’d love to chat. Find out more here
