Chained to a Being

 "It is in sickness that we are compelled to recognize that we do not live alone but are chained to a being from a different realm, from whom we are worlds apart, who has no knowledge of us and by whom it is impossible to make ourselves understood: our body."

Marcel Proust, The Guermantes Way

Recently, as I think I mentioned, I've been involved in another reread of Proust's Remembrance of Things Past. Yes, it's my third time working my way through Proust, which causes my friends to back away while trying not to lose eye contact. Right now I'm halfway through The Guermantes Way, the third of the seven installments that make up Remembrance of Things Past (I usually describe it as interminable). This has always been the volume that I've enjoyed the least, although maybe I'm being a bit too hard on it. There are definitely gems here, it just takes a little more digging. Over breakfast (my normal morning routine) I was listening to Proust on Audible and this passage caught my attention. I opened up my copy of Proust and this line wasn't even marked, which means that it probably never even made my earlier blog posts where I discussed Remembrance of Things Past. This alone is pretty solid proof that I simply haven't paid enough attention to this particular volume. It's not that I dislike it necessarily, and the section where Marcel's grandmother dies is heartbreakingly beautiful (in addition to simply heartbreaking). Doubtless all of my physical struggles lately made this resonate. Cynthia Freeland, in Portraits & Persons, talks about the Bodily Self, that is, how our personality is shaped, not simply by intellect or moral influences, but also by our bodies alone. As my world shrinks, I guess my self does as well. Still, I've never given up that easily, so I'll keep fighting.

When you're back at the gym, but you still are dragging your cane around. Still, progress is progress.