Anatomy in the Park

I love Saturdays! Nothing beats sitting beneath a tree in the park, soaking up the sun on a colder day while studying anatomy.

There’s the beauty of the greenery around you, illuminated by slanting rays of sunlight through the branches above. Then there’s the beauty of the reddened muscles, vessels, nerves and fascia, coursing through their channels in perfect arrangement.

There are also sounds: birds singing, children playing frisbee, and the rustling of leaves in the wind. As I read, I add to these the sounds of arteries pulsating, tendons snapping, and air rushing in and out of the lungs. It’s the ballad of life, both from the outside and the inside simultaneously.

I feel the hard bark of the tree behind, rubbing against the stubby spinal processes of my vertebrae. My fingers toy with the pages, compressing the superficial layers of skin such that touch and pressure sensors beneath are triggered.

The physical transition from the outside to the inside of my body is seamless, all composed of simple matter. It’s only my cognition that makes a distinction between my own anatomy, and the “anatomy” of the park around me. By material standards, there is no difference – just a continuum of structures arranged into functional objects. 

I love Saturdays; time enough to enjoy the simple pleasure of anatomy in the park.