Bodies Are Cool. And Weird. And Hard.

Avery has one of those ubiquitous lift-the-flap nature books that he insists I read to him over and over. Each page has a different habitat; shoreline; arctic; desert. That sort of thing.

There’s a whole double-page spread complete with fold out bonus flap dedicated to the jungle. In among the toucans and tapirs is a description of a liana plant. Lianas are vines that wrap around the trunks of trees, using them for support. They weave their way around the tree, pulling themselves up in search of light at the top of the canopy. 

But this isn’t a mutually beneficial, symbiotic relationship. The tree isn’t getting nutrients or beneficial insects coming to visit because of the lianas. Instead it’s becoming slowly strangled to death by the vines. The vines smother the trees and block out their light, killing the trees. The tree slowly rots underneath the tangled knots of the liana.

This is how I imagine my chronic pain.