Salon | Newsreal: The heart of the matter

T A B L E+T A L K
Is adultery so bad? Should it be a crime? Join the quarrels in Social Issues

D A I L Y+Q U O T E
I want my $35,000 Biedermeier, and I want it now!

R E C E N T L Y
It's the leaks, stupid!
By Joe Conason
The unholy alliance between Kenneth Starr's office and the media
(02/12/98)
Blowback
By Jonathan Broder
Are journalists now fair game in the sex scandal wars?
(02/12/98)
The Reich stuff?
By Andrew Ross
President Clinton's former Labor secretary thinks his old boss is off course -- but not in the way Kenneth Starr thinks
(02/11/98)
The horny dilemma
By Fred Branfman
Former Gary Hart aide speaks up for sexually satisfied presidents
(02/10/98)
Germ war games
By Jeff Stein
If the U.S, finds itself back in the desert against Iraq, get out your gas masks
(02/09/98)
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THE HEART OF THE MATTER | PAGE 2 OF 2
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When love works, the person in love easily convulses with the electric charge of another, reinvigorating a past, working to create a shared life relished for the fact that it is, within a tolerable range, unpredictable. On the other hand, when memory weakens, when lovers forget where they've been and where they need to be heading, when things get too predictable, relationships wither; a dampness seeps into the bones.
Predictability, or "bad memory," as scientists have found, may simply be symptoms of familiar heart ailments, like coronary blockage. But even in such cloggings metaphorical parallels abound. As Shakespeare put it, 318 years before American physician James B. Herrick first described hardening of the arteries, "Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp'd/Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is."
Of course it takes more than muscle contraction and clear passageways to keep a person alive. It takes blood; and here, too, physiology mirrors metaphor. Proust once remarked that love is composed of an infinity of successive loves, "each of which is ephemeral although by uninterrupted multiplicity they give us the impression of continuity, the illusion of unity." So too blood, which in a cubic centimeter contains no less than 4.5 million to 5.5 million red blood cells (erythrocytes), 150,000 to 400,000 platelets and 7,000 to 12,000 white blood cells (leukocytes).
If love is in part a state that transforms that which moves through it, then for us it is each event in a relationship that finds its counterpart in the millions of blood cells rushing through our hearts -- cells that by all non-magnified appearances give the appearance of continuity and unity. Love, like our leukocytes, protects us from sickness and disease. Love, like our platelets, helps us to stop the bleeding. And love, like our erythrocytes, helps us to breathe.
With the help of the heart, blood transports the nutrients that keep us alive, gets rid of our metabolic waste products, helps us absorb oxygen and remove carbon dioxide and helps us regulate our hormones. Stated in slightly less scientific terms, this might be a description of a wonderful relationship. It seems that whether we look at the heart itself, the job it does or the stuff it transforms, we see glimpses of love among the plasma.
Of course, knowing that our hearts are complicated, chaotic things might not make Valentine's Day any better; the heart and love may, in the end, have nothing more in common besides the fact that their inner workings remain a mystery. While it has been possible for 30 years to transplant a healthy human heart into another person, no such recourse exists for the emotionally broken-hearted.
But how apt that it is now science, not folk tales, reminding us that we are of the heart, and we are like it, too; that in a modern world it takes mathematics and biochemistry to hint at what tradition always insisted: The heart may be a simple thing, but only in the same sense that the word "love" is one of the shortest in the English language.
SALON | Feb. 13, 1998
Geoff Shandler is a book editor and writer living in New York. His last piece for Salon was on lawyers in space.

T A B L E+T A L K Is adultery so bad? Should it be a crime? Join the quarrels in Social Issues D A I L Y+Q U O T E I want my $35,000 Biedermeier, and I want it now! R E C E N T L Y It's the leaks, stupid! By Joe Conason The unholy alliance between Kenneth Starr's office and the media (02/12/98) Blowback By Jonathan Broder Are journalists now fair game in the sex scandal wars? (02/12/98) The Reich stuff? By Andrew Ross President Clinton's former Labor secretary thinks his old boss is off course -- but not in the way Kenneth Starr thinks (02/11/98) The horny dilemma By Fred Branfman Former Gary Hart aide speaks up for sexually satisfied presidents (02/10/98) Germ war games By Jeff Stein If the U.S, finds itself back in the desert against Iraq, get out your gas masks (02/09/98) - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Browse the Newsreal Archives - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
		THE HEART OF THE MATTER \| PAGE 2 OF 2 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - When love works, the person in love easily convulses with the electric charge of another, reinvigorating a past, working to create a shared life relished for the fact that it is, within a tolerable range, unpredictable. On the other hand, when memory weakens, when lovers forget where they've been and where they need to be heading, when things get too predictable, relationships wither; a dampness seeps into the bones. Predictability, or "bad memory," as scientists have found, may simply be symptoms of familiar heart ailments, like coronary blockage. But even in such cloggings metaphorical parallels abound. As Shakespeare put it, 318 years before American physician James B. Herrick first described hardening of the arteries, "Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp'd/Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is." Of course it takes more than muscle contraction and clear passageways to keep a person alive. It takes blood; and here, too, physiology mirrors metaphor. Proust once remarked that love is composed of an infinity of successive loves, "each of which is ephemeral although by uninterrupted multiplicity they give us the impression of continuity, the illusion of unity." So too blood, which in a cubic centimeter contains no less than 4.5 million to 5.5 million red blood cells (erythrocytes), 150,000 to 400,000 platelets and 7,000 to 12,000 white blood cells (leukocytes). If love is in part a state that transforms that which moves through it, then for us it is each event in a relationship that finds its counterpart in the millions of blood cells rushing through our hearts -- cells that by all non-magnified appearances give the appearance of continuity and unity. Love, like our leukocytes, protects us from sickness and disease. Love, like our platelets, helps us to stop the bleeding. And love, like our erythrocytes, helps us to breathe. With the help of the heart, blood transports the nutrients that keep us alive, gets rid of our metabolic waste products, helps us absorb oxygen and remove carbon dioxide and helps us regulate our hormones. Stated in slightly less scientific terms, this might be a description of a wonderful relationship. It seems that whether we look at the heart itself, the job it does or the stuff it transforms, we see glimpses of love among the plasma. Of course, knowing that our hearts are complicated, chaotic things might not make Valentine's Day any better; the heart and love may, in the end, have nothing more in common besides the fact that their inner workings remain a mystery. While it has been possible for 30 years to transplant a healthy human heart into another person, no such recourse exists for the emotionally broken-hearted. But how apt that it is now science, not folk tales, reminding us that we are of the heart, and we are like it, too; that in a modern world it takes mathematics and biochemistry to hint at what tradition always insisted: The heart may be a simple thing, but only in the same sense that the word "love" is one of the shortest in the English language. SALON \| Feb. 13, 1998 Geoff Shandler is a book editor and writer living in New York. His last piece for Salon was on lawyers in space.