Physiological Miracle

What’s been happening to me over the past year I call it a physiological miracle.

Yesterday, I found myself thinking again:

How is it even possible that with fibromyalgia, myofascial pain syndrome, an endometriotic cyst almost 5 cm in size, and, on top of that, on the very first day of my period- I climbed mountains?

And yet I walked. I kept climbing.

While around me were perfectly healthy people, athletic people who struggled, who stopped more often than I did, who couldn’t reach the top.

And I could.

How is that even possible? How???

I asked the chat this question.

And the answer I received I can only call it a physiological miracle.

When the body lives in constant pain, it seems to know only one mode: protect yourself, save energy, don’t move.

But at some point, something else switches on inside.

The brain stops seeing pain as an enemy. It hears another call “I must, I can.”

Or, as I felt then “I’m going to the mountains. I’m part of this strength. I am alive.”

And in that moment, the body does the impossible- The hypothalamus, pituitary gland, and brainstem release endorphins, enkephalins, adrenaline.

These are our internal morphines, natural painkillers that block pain signals right in the spinal cord. The heart races, blood flows to the muscles, breathing deepens. And the pain steps back, not disappearing, but bowing before meaning.

Because in that moment, meaning becomes stronger than physical suffering.

You stop being a victim of your body and become its guide. You show it that it’s capable of more than its pain- capable of everything.

And that’s not an illusion, that’s the plasticity of the nervous system.

Just like Joe Dispenza says- retraining the body to a new mind- only I did it intuitively, simply by moving forward, following my heart where it wanted to go.

Of course, later came the pain shocks and exhaustion, as if the body caught up with what had been “switched off.”

But that’s part of the miracle too, because everything we turn off during those bursts of meaning comes back later, like an echo.

Our brain is a mini-universe.

It can rewire itself in seconds when it receives the signal from us: “This matters.”

And what seems impossible from the outside is explained, inside, by the most fascinating biology: A human being truly can rise above pain when consciousness finds a purpose stronger than any pain.

It’s not magic.

It’s exactly what I call a physiological miracle, when the spirit and the body make an agreement, when they move toward one shared goal.

When you stop saying “I’m suffering,” and instead say: “I’m moving despite the suffering.”

And the same thing happens when I take a camera in my hands.

It’s not pain that activates- it’s attention.

The focus shifts outward and the brain instantly rewrites its priorities.

At that moment The amygdala, the area responsible for anxiety and pain, quiets down.

I literally enter an altered state of consciousness, the same one climbers, dancers, musicians, monks experience.

The brain stops “controlling” and starts merging with the action, living fully in the present, inside each micro-moment.

I’m not just photographing, I’m entering the same current I feel in the mountains. Only these mountains are internal. And every time I press the shutter, I perform the same act as before:

My pain bows before meaning And maybe that’s why I can’t stop.

Because every frame, for me, isn’t just a photograph- it’s proof that even through pain, beauty can be created.

That the spirit can lead the body to places it could never reach on its own 🤍