Sex, Sleep, Eat, Drink, Dream [antikvár]

Prologue you are your body. It holds you in and holds you up. It constrains you and controls you, delights and disgusts you. And yet its activities are mostly a mystery. Let's face it: We're all body-conscious to one degree or another, acutely aware of our physical façades^ the symmetry and wrinkle of face, the curve of torso, girth of thigh, roll of belly, flare of feet. But how many of us have a handle on the drama unfolding inside? As Saint Augustine said, we go forth to wonder at the heights of mountains and the courses of the stars, yet pass by the miracle of our own inner lives without wondering. In health, the body often operates so smoothly that we can almost forget it exists. Most often it's some failure or perturbation that captures the attention. In fact, many of us spend our time trying not to be aware of what's occurring within. No news is good news. Not so. This came home to me some time ago when I succumbed to a virulent flu after a stressful run of life. The flu sucked the juice out of me for weeks and robbed me of all the facets of physical existence I relish: the satisfactions of work and exercise, the sweet smell of my children and other sensual pleasures, appetite and eating, restful sleep. When I emerged from my illness, I felt not only the relief and joy of having my body back, but a sudden sharp desire to learn more about it. What was the nature of those pleasures my healthy body so enjoys? And the problems that occasionally plague it? I realized I didn't have a clue what went on inside me, in sickness or in health. I had no idea, for example, what underlies digestion and its precursor,