The body as universe

Scientists say that there are 100 trillion microbes that call our bodies home. These are creatures, bacteria, that have co-evolved with us and that work to keep our bodies healthy. Because our healthy body is in their self-interest.

So what happens when we take antibiotics? The medicine that may kill what is making us sick also kills millions, or billions, or trillions of those friendly bacteria that are our allies. It is a virtual holocaust which may, in fact, leave our bodies prey to opportunistic viruses or bacteria because our army of defenders has been laid low.

Our body's population of microscopic creatures is called the "microbiome" and I read an interesting article about it in The New York Times earlier this week. The article attained a certain relevance for me because I was getting sick at the time. It started with sinus pressure which then drained and gave me an inflamed and irritated and extremely painful throat. Fortunately, after 24 hours of that, my throat got better and the illness proceeded downward into my chest, where at least it has the virtue of not being so painful. But as the sickness progressed, I thought about the article that I had read and began to monitor my body's reaction to my first respiratory infection in seven years.

I decided early on that I wouldn't contact my doctor unless things seemed to be getting seriously out of hand. I would use palliatives to help with the pain - hot baths, cough drops, heating pads, the old standby Vick's VapoRub. I would drink lots of water. Well, I do that anyway. And I would wait for my body to heal itself. It seems to be working. I'm not ready to run any races, or even walk a mile, yet, but I can tell that my body's defenders are winning their fight. Soon, this physical presence should again be a safe place for them and me to be.

I've been giving this microbiome a lot of thought this week. I wonder what it is like for all those critters that live inside of me and on my skin. For them, I am a virtual universe, the only universe they will ever know, and they are in eternal war against enemies that might harm me and them. But what exactly do they "know"?

Thinking about that made me contemplate the Gaia principle or hypothesis which gained a certain prominence back in the 1970s with the publication of several articles and finally of a book called Gaia: A New Look at Life on Earth by Dr. James Lovelock. The Gaia principle proposes, briefly, that all organisms and their inorganic surroundings on Earth are closely integrated to form a single and self-regulating complex system, maintaining the conditions for life on the planet. To put it another way, the Earth is our body writ large. It is a closed system that is self-regulating and seeks to ensure the health of the planet.

But what if this analogy of the microbiome extends not just to the planet but to the galaxy? The universe? What if we, as humans, are in the same relationship to the Earth as the microbiome is to our body? And our blue planet is in that same relationship with the galaxy and the universe? What if we are all just part of one unimaginably large biome? Well, scientists are actually seriously studying that possibility and, frankly, it makes as much sense as many theories I've heard about the order of the universe.

Then again, perhaps I am being influenced by my own personal microbiome. I wonder - would I be a different person if I had a different microbiome? Is Rush Limbaugh a creature of his microbiome? Maybe we could slip some antibiotics into his soup.

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

The Nature of Things

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