This idea of circulation is what I’m intrigued by, these days. Not just circulation within the body, but of everything everywhere all at once; energy, in general.
Circulation of give and take.
Circulation of action and reaction.
Circulation of past and future.
That which stays without moving blocks the energy. Even dead bodies don’t stay; they rot. So, imagine just how much a living thing must be blocked, in order to stay static. All its energy is probably being spent on maintaining the status quo. But that might be unnecessary, because things come and go. The status quo that faded might return next time—of course, not as the same thing. But is even the status quo that stays ever the same? How could it be the same, when everything around it is (probably) changing?
Each breath isn’t the same. It cannot be. It circulates throughout the body and leaves. And yet we say “I am breathing,” as if it is one continuous act. Similarly, when we say “circulation,” it sounds like one act but it is a constant fading, constant appearing.
Ever since I realized that there was a causal relationship between my body’s inability to maintain temperature and how sick I get, I’ve been vaguely interested in the idea of circulation…
…but now I’m applying it to everything in life. Or, trying to. It seems like a good idea.
Usually, the reason my body occasionally fails to maintain temperature is because I ignored something in the mind. In that regard, the mind and body are circulating; communicating. Or maybe they are one, the way action and reaction are one—they come in one set.
And the way I “teach” my body how to balance temperature, again, is by taking lower-body baths. Keeping the lower body in hot water, while the upper body is in contact with the colder air, circulates the body. Opposites interact and result in one circulation.
Another method that helps is alternating between the cold plunge and hot plunge. (But this is more difficult to do at home; you gotta go to a spa with plunges that maintain consistent temperature.) In this case, you gotta do it for the whole body. And the hot and cold interact to create one circulation.
Night and day, activity and inactivity, the wind blowing and not blowing. Things like that.
And then I think about concepts like quantum entanglement. I can say with 100% confidence that I know almost nothing about this phenomenon, in the scientific sence. But oh, wow, if there ever was a romantic concept in nature, in the univers, then this is it. From an article on Space, “Quantum entanglement is a bizarre, counterintuitive phenomenon that explains how two subatomic particles can be intimately linked to each other even if separated by billions of light-years of space.”
I vaguely understand that the reason scientists call this “bizarre” is because nothing is supposed to travel faster than light, and yet, these entangled quantums (??? quantas ??? quanti? cacti? octopi? octopuses? ) do. But because I am no scientist, I think it makes perfect sense! Of course, everthing that happens to one twin happens to the other twin instantly. Not ten minutes later, not ten seconds later, but instantly.
When I push there is pushback, instantly. Sometimes, in the less physical and more figurative world, it may seem like the reaction isn’t instant, but in terms of overall energy… isn’t it so? Isn’t it instant?
I imagine it would be difficult to prove. How anyone would measure the entirety of the universe—not just things like temperature and distances, but thought energy—I cannot imagine.
But that’s for the scientists to worry about. I just marvel at the beauty of entangled… quantum things. That word, entanglement—that, alone, is beautiful. Whoever chose that word must be a scientific poet. I think of the word “tango.” Also, being caught, being securely bound, being one in an eternal dance.