The seat of ones being

Before the heart, most believed that the seat of a person, the place from which emotions dwelt and grew was the spleen. Situated between the heart and lowest rib, close to the stomach, it was easy to presume that it was the source of the feeling of butterflies when one beheld the object of their dearest affection. As far as human anatomy was concerned, organs held as much symbolism and influence on a person’s disposition as the physical functions themselves. Hippocrates believed that the spleen was the seat of the most disagreeable aspects of a person’s character, Plato and Aristotle contested in their own individual ways, and from that moment on, debate about its purpose and influence perpetuated throughout the centuries until a doctor named Christo in 1962, after spending a lifetime compiling research produced a study of the segmental anatomy of the spleen, displacing the former beliefs and designating it with a more realistic purpose in the functions of the body. Although the history of the spleen is wrought with fables and myths, it is also a dwelling place for truths and realities.

At King David of Jerusalem’s death, Adonijah, one of David’s sons, enlists fifty men to assist him in usurping the throne from Solomon, David’s desired heir. In the Talmud it states that these fifty men are chosen because they all had their spleen removed. Rabbi Shlomo ben Yitzchak (1040-1105), a Talmudic commentator, suggested it was because the spleen caused a sensation of heaviness that disabled one to run fast. Perhaps the sensation was the heaviness of unrequited love, of the feeling of transparency amongst those one loves which brought upon this feeling. The origins and cause of such physical manifestations of emotions remained shrouded in mystery, and unfortunately for the spleen, the Middle Ages credited it as the organ to hold and develop the sinking feeling in the pit of one’s core, the heaviness that dwells between ones lungs, the aching feeling that settles itself between the heart and the lowest rib. This feeling, unwelcome at the best of times, could very well be the reason Hippocrates associated the spleen, the obvious culprit for such unpleasanties, with the more disagreeable aspects of a person’s character; the aspects which cause one who is aching to cry out in desperation, to disturb the status quo and shout out in agonising tones, ‘Help me, for I am hurting’.

Like physical pain, which informs us when something is not quite right, this feeling of agonising desperation, of sorrow and despair informs us that emotionally, something is not quite right. This pain, manifested in a sense of heaviness which can stop one from performing everyday duties, is not entirely bad. It enables one to speak out, however timidly at first of the feelings that, like wind, cannot be initially seen but through the affects it has on its surroundings. And once that wall of self has been broken down, once the cry for help has been heard, allows another to whisper comfortingly that they too have a feeling that they are transient, that their life could be merely a hallucination. That they fear that the necessity of their existence is felt by few, if not none, and though at times, it pains ones core, they know that whilst they are still here, they can help you. Which is one of the most comforting things one can say to another in times of loneliness and sadness.

Nowadays, it is known that the spleen is the seat of our immunity, and is as vital to our survival for its contemporary purpose as it was for its perceived purpose of holding ones emotions. It is now known that it acts as a blood reservoir, so that in times of shock, times when the body finds it difficult to cope with external demands, it releases blood and can prevent shock. However, once injured, the spleen is the most difficult organs to repair, and is, in most cases, simply removed. In the light of its history, founded in half-truths and Byzantine and Delphian enigmas, one could almost presume that the spleen has retained some of its presumed functions as the seat of emotions, and of feelings, and in order to repair such a delicate organ, one must holistically approach the injured and mend not only damaged organs, but broken hopes and damaged feelings as well. For although the spleen no longer is credited for holding emotions, nor heaviness, nor love, it can still be suggested that its functions to keep its owner alive through more than just its physical functions, that it still holds a remnant of its emotional purpose, and thankfully, refuses it give that up.