Good health allows itself to be forgotten. It allows our minds to forget the very fact of our embodiment. Our bodies might be so serenely and submissively compliant as to simply dissolve, so hollow and harmonious as to seemingly collapse into mere vessels of ourselves. But illness disrupts this invisible harmony and so confronts us with the gritty reality of our own bodies. To become ill is to be split in half, faced with the delicate, dynamic, and now destabilized inter-dependency that was lurking beneath what had all along been the mere illusion of your unity. It is to endure the revelation—or the reminder—that you are not a singularity but a relationship.
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