Saturday, May 15, 2010

the tongue of an okapi is mute


Did you hear about Ruiben van Assouw, the nine-year old Dutch boy who was the only survivor of a plane crash in Libya that killed one-hundred-and-three other people? Some say it was a miracle. Recently in Houston, a dishwasher in a school cafeteria saw an image of the Virgin Mary stuck crusted to an empty pizza pan after a burnt piece of pizza was removed. Many people agreed that this was a miracle too. The story made the the five o'clock news. Personally, I believe that the brain of that nine-year-old boy is more miraculous than the oddity of his survival, that the brain of that Catholic woman who was touched by the vision of the Virgin is more miraculous than the vision of the Virgin. It's the everyday things in life that are actually the most miraculous.


Take the brain for example. The brain operates so elegantly and efficiently that we fail to really notice it, especially when it is functioning normally. Even its most humble and automatic routines are causes for celebration, yet who among us pauses to marvel at the ways of the brain? When my brain puppeteers the spiral marionette of delicately tuned muscles in the narrowing of my throat to shape my flow of speech, do I savor the precision of the strings? No, I just open my mouth and talk. The voice is spontaneously gymnastic.

The human tongue is like the songbox of birds or the blowholes of dolphins. Mother Nature, finding opportunity in the pliancy of anatomy, touched the tip of her wand to the tongue of humankind and brought the voice to life. Minds used to be more like islands lacking bridges between them. We traveled from the beaches of one island to the beaches of another only with great frustration and always with an unshakable sense that there was a lot left unexplored. There was always a between between us. Then tongue-turning turned into language. Our chewing organs and grunting muscles became magically expressive. Sound is shaped by the movements of the tongue and the mouth floats sound through the air. The body began to talk, fashioning a magic carpet from the fabric of our mouths. And now we are able to fly almost effortlessly from one mind to another, vaulting the murky waters which once divided our souls. Songs are sung and minds are connected and civilizations develop, all from flapping tongues and puppeteering brains. We rarely stop to notice. It is never on the news.

The human brain, without argument, is the most miraculous substance known to man. Is it less of a miracle if it happens billions of times a day all across this planet? You can hear of a freak survival and take it as a sign from above. You can feel the universe winking back at you when you see an apparition of the Virgin. Or you could open your mouth and sing and your song would be as miraculous.