Inner Sanctum

“My body is a temple.”
I’ve heard this quote a lot. Those embracing such an idea are typically young and fit, inhaling and exhaling deeply as they lightly towel off after a vivid morning workout. They have a glow about them as bright as sunshine. These saints view the body as something to be respected. They see their vessel as a holy place. They exercise daily, eat the right nourishment, and down the correct Redline Extreme drink. Their goal is to keep evil out and only the good in. I’m all for that. The problem is, my temple is in ruin. It’s starting to crumble. It’s this ‘age’ thing.

It begins when we enter the world, fresh and pliable and continues downward until we are crumbling dust. Meanwhile, there’s this lifetime; this time-chewing wild-goose chase in which we search for answers to keep the body young. It’s quite pointless. The outcome is always the same. We all end up eventually with our scrawny gooses cooked. It’s enough to make you sick. As we age, our arteries stiffen, our body fat increases and our primary organs flirt with atrophy. On the outside, we sag and wrinkle and shrink like bugs to the flame. I’ve read we should avoid direct sunlight and use sunscreens. Though I don’t aspire to live my life as a tight-skinned vampire, I do try to be conscious of the elements. No, I take that back. I rarely use sunscreen though my wife always tells me I should. I’m just lazy. My complexion is light and I burn easily but I really want that tan! I rationalize that like white bread in a toaster, burning is the quickest way. There are scores of ads that point to your “skin-care professional” for the best products for your skin. I’m not buying it. Laser treatments, injections and dermabrasions are costly, somewhat uncomfortable and can take 4-8 weeks to see a result meaning it takes 1-2 months of actual aging to look younger. No my friend, there are no instant miracles out there that can save our dilapidated and shrinking shrines. I’ve come to my own personal understanding about my own tabernacle: ‘What I put into it will eventually come out of it’, one way or the other.

My health has had its ups and downs, nothing too serious like heart attacks, strokes or major part replacements. My downs involve nature’s natural discomforts, things like stomach cramps, indigestion, joint pain, constipation and occasionally, an obscure foot bump. These ailments may be indicators of something more sinister awaiting but for now I’ll just enjoy them and be thankful I’m not at the doctor. That’s the last place I’d want to be. Ending up at the doctor means the home remedies aimed at eliminating these afflictions aren’t working. I’ll peruse the medicine cabinet in search of the standard antacids, laxatives, or pain relievers to help alleviate the discomfort. For a foot bump, (actually a Planters wart on my heel from walking around in flip flops all day), I’ll unravel a foot of silver Duct tape and wrap my ankle like a Spartan about to invade Troy. I’ve heard the glue in the tape can ‘cure’ anything, even a wart. This remedy does seem to work as the bump has receded to about half its size but I’m left wondering if I’ve absorbed unwelcome chemical toxins into my system through the tape? I mean, if it’s quietly killing that hearty wart, how’s my thymus faring?

When these traditional remedies fail to work or not quickly enough, I’ll move on to loftier remedies. As with many temple rituals, I’ll resort to prayer. It’s cheap, painless and the results vary. I’ll pray (from within my temple) that I won’t fall apart too quickly. I’ll pray that it was just a momentary glitch that has caused the discomfort in my lower bowel. Perhaps that pasta was a bit too spicy, that mayonnaise a little too far past its expiration date, that chicken frightfully undercooked. I’ll pray my organs will supernaturally heal themselves. My prayer involves revisiting a scene from Lord of the Rings where the rotting dead are attacking the kinder Muppet people. The battlefield and fiery landscape surrounding them resembles the battle raging within my lower guts. I’ll then envision Galapagos or whatever his name is, riding in on his white stead and systematically smiting them all as that evil ‘burning eye’ dissolves. Transposing these images to the inner walls of my intestine, I’ll lay calmly as the battle for my Middle-earth rages on and quietly pray that my own personal ‘ring of fire’ will extinguish itself. It’s a long shot for that kind of remedy to work but it’s a passive, positive approach and better than calling an ambulance. It’s choosing mind over matter.

What ultimately cures any of these ailments is time. It’s an average of five days of discomfort and lag time and then one morning, the system is restored. I’m left to reflect on the old adage – which came first, the chicken or the egg? The supernaturally answered prayer or the normal ‘my system cured itself’ result? Whatever the case, there is much self-congratulations for an ordeal well absorbed, an oath to strictly monitor what I consume and an affirmation to adhere to a better, life-changing lifestyle which will include these keys to longevity: avoid violence, drive safely, don’t drink, smoke or do drugs, ask for help when you need it and have meaning in your life. I dug these keys up from a website that caters to people like me who can’t seem to follow the simple rule of ‘if it’s hurting you, then just stop!’ None of these keys are surprising. They are common sense and you’d have to be an imbecile not to simply understand them.

My temple is quiet now. It’s amazing how the body heals, how the mind corrects and recovers, then forgets. Within 6 hours of recovery, ordering a pizza seems just the right celebratory note and later, a chocolate chip cookie or two, a comforting reward for knowing my inner sanctum is in such good hands.