chemistry | littlebarefeetblog

Hardly anything in this life is more worthy of celebration than news of human healing. Who could possibly argue?

Hearing that a beloved young woman – beleaguered by protracted physical symptoms – has finally received both a diagnosis and effective treatment, I am moved to speak.

What will I say? That I’m grateful she has found a qualified diagnostician? That the prescription she’s taking is working? That her symptoms are finally receding?

ALL of the above.

Yes. I believe in science. Science – the discipline involving the harnessing of nature’s evidence and applying critical methods to what it can tell us about the physical world and the sustenance of life within it.

What are the roots of the scientific inquiry? Humans want to know about that which occurs over which we creatures seem to have no dominion. Hence, the study of physics, astronomy, geology, biology, physiology, ecology, and the first of humankind’s actions upon the latter, chemistry.

What I do know, to which historical documentation will attest, is that the advent of human healing practices dates back to early homo sapiens and their counterparts, Neanderthals. Things which arise from the earth itself, plant and mineral material, were among the first of what came to be known as human medicines.

Investigate the culture of Native Americans, and others across the globe; the evidence is virtually everywhere. Plant salves, poultices, oils, and powders. These were the first medicines. In some tribes, such formulations were the domain of shamans or gurus or other healers by name, those who made it their life purpose to prepare and provide the healing treatments.

“Modern” medicine, with its study of bio-chemistry and use of man-made technologies (leading to bio-chemical engineering), has reached a broad capacity to diagnose multiple human ills. But, the medicines formulated still contain fundamental features always present since time immemorial: plant and mineral derived material. The stuff of the earth, itself.

Controversies rage over the comparative value between pharmacologically prepared vs. naturally formulated offerings. Yet, whether one chooses to ingest a solid caplet or capsule, or a powder, or a solution; whether one injects, or swallows, or topically applies; the source of any one of such choices is the root of all science: earth’s basic elements, and the manner in which they interact molecularly.

Science is the study of that which occurs, naturally, and how humankind gathers all the evidence thereof toward practical use. As such, I believe in science – wholeheartedly, in all its manifestations, because I, as a creature, cannot deny it.

Yes. As a study, science is pure – the examination of the expressions of life itself. But, when the scientist ceases to be in service of health, wellness, and all forms of life sustenance and becomes a tool in the hands of the experimental, great and fearful caution need be taken. The manipulations which can occur within the scientific experiment can reveal nefarious motives. Moral compromise. Falsified data. Misleading conclusion. The list grows.

Ask any chemist. Harnessing molecules and creating new ways to bind them has birthed a man made world. Enter humankind, and its propensity toward greed, covetousness, and corruption. To what end will intellectual curiosity bend minds otherwise committed to the service of the quality of life?

I will never deny science. What I will challenge is human motive in its service. To that end, if I must, and in the interests of both self preservation and community protection, I will defy the scientist.

© 6/15/2021 Ruth Ann Scanzillo. All rights those of the author, whose name appears above this line. No copying in part or whole, including translation, permitted. Sharing by blog link, exclusively. Thank you for being the good person.

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Lately, the whole topic of what constitutes attraction has been pounding away at my not- so subconscious.

Always having been among those who appreciated beauty in nature I have, however, been known to become madly infatuated with certain humans who do not possess what has historically been termed “conventional” good looks; namely, that excruciatingly high standard of physical symmetry has never been the prerequisite in order for me to become irresistibly attracted.

Science has since pretty much, to coin a phrase, proved out the reason why. They’re called pheromones, first discovered in the mink, I believe, and now found to be present near the human nostril. Much like a hormone, as if we didn’t already have enough of these, this one governs the law of attraction; if male pheromones sniff out female, the chemistry is a lock and so are the two hapless victims.

In my personal post-fertile years, though the poundage has remained relatively stable and the skin tone in a holding pattern I have noted a marked drop in the number of looks and/or advances from the opposite sex. Perhaps the absence of pheromones provokes a flat facial expression in place of the former, manic radiance of “come hither”-ness, the ready laughter at the slightest quip, the tendency to reach out and touch. Whichever the case, these pesky little chemicals are sleeping it off, and most of the time I feel secretly grateful to be free to go about my business with a new clarity of lucid purpose.

But, enter the potential for a lasting partnership, perhaps those first couple dates. Is there something else, beyond the chemical, which gives the older girl a reason?

I have to call it vitality.

My father possessed this feature. The bound in his step, the lilt in his voice, the unmedicated, natural light in his eyes. The nimble quickness. And, his skin.

He spent most of his time outdoors, from age 50 to the end, training for these crazy marathons at high noon. But, he downed gallons of water, never a drop of drink or a single puff, and ate wholly, rejecting all processed refined sugars and sodium, even eliminating white flour years before everyone knew why this was a good thing, and his skin glowed. The color was warm, moist, sunned without burning, lined without sagging. Everything about him had rebound all over it. He was vitally alive.

Perhaps we have an instinct for that which we seek. We are in search of our kind, our complement, in my case the one who honors health and wellbeing. We want more life, and we yearn for someone who teems with it.

Dad remained vibrant, engaging, winsome, and endearing until the final months of his 95 years. If my body keeps waking up every morning, I hope to sustain even half of his brand of vitality. And, maybe there’s one more man out there like him. I’ll take another deep breath, and hope.

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littlebarefeetblog

Stories, in my head, since childhood….time to tell them.

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