Eat Your Livers

09 – 25/06/26

What was it about ancient civilizations and their fascination with livers?

The liver was seen as the reservoir of life and vitality, appearing in their stories, sayings, and religious practices. I would have imagined they would care more about the heart or, like us today, the brain.

I recently had an MRI to examine my neck after a head-on collision with my Labrador, who nearly dislocated my shoulder. Instead, they found a sizable cyst on my liver. I expected the doctors to mention the many bumps on my head, but they didn’t.

All in all, nothing to worry about.

Whenever I think of the liver, I think of Hind bint Utbah.

Her name is the only name I say with fear.

I’m not really afraid of people. Sometimes I’m afraid of what they might do. But Hind is the only person who inspires fear in me in the way Hell inspires fear.

I named my pocket knife Bint Otba in her honor.

I haven’t had occasion to use it yet.

Stuyvesant yourself a proper pocket knife, not a Swiss Army knife.

And give it a good name.

I have never been more deceived by an object than by the Swiss Army knife.

I’ve collected many over the years: pink ones, large ones, tiny ones, even stolen ones.

I imagined they would prepare me for the day I was unexpectedly thrown into the wilderness and somehow survived because I happened to have a Swiss Army knife in my pocket. Have you tried the tiny scissors?

Considering the Swiss don’t really have an army, I should have known from the beginning.

Back to Hind, Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, but they clearly never met Hind, who, to me, represents the fury of an Arab woman wronged.

I hope never to feel so enraged that I would have my servant kill a warrior for me to eat his liver before a crowd as an act of revenge.

Thank God for Islam, which restrained those wildfires of revenge and prohibited the mutilation of the dead.

How much of Hind’s terrible act was driven by the desire for revenge, and how much by a perceived duty to avenge her father and brother?

There was neither Heaven nor Hell in Hind’s worldview at that time.

The pre-Islamic Arabs did not believe in resurrection or reincarnation.

Revenge was the closest thing to justice.

I’ve been thinking lately about duty and desire.

What does duty do to desire?

Does desire make duty possible?

Does duty make desire impossible?

Somewhere between desire and duty, nature and nurture, where do we each stand?

On the spectrum of curiosity, desire and disgust sitting at opposite ends.

One draws us closer.

The other pushes us away.

But what happens when something becomes a duty?

Do we naturally begin leaning away from it?

Why the liver?

In ancient Mesopotamia, priests examined the markings on the livers of sacrificed sheep, believing they contained messages from God.

Intricate clay models of sheep livers still exist today, preserved as teaching tools for this practice.

One interpretation might read:

“The king’s army will conquer the enemy.”

I’m fortunate—or perhaps simply in denial—that I don’t generally feel wronged by others.

But if I truly were wronged, how much would I leave unavenged in the name of God?

I wonder what practices I use to receive messages from God.

Perhaps mine are just as absurd as looking into liver markings.

I find many of my messages on YouTube and take them to heart.

Stories.

Symbols.

Patterns.

They quietly color my everyday life.

People often say to follow your gut.

Is that my liver speaking?

Surely it isn’t my microbiome.

I refuse to believe foreign organisms should govern my decisions.

Being controlled by a parasite all my life sounds even worse than being gutted at the end of it.

No, thank you.

If I had to choose, I’d rather trust my liver.

There is an Arabic expression I often use: This disgusts my liver.

When I feel genuine revulsion, I’m out.

More than desire, disgust guides me with ruthless certainty.

There is another, gentler Arabic expression that describes a beloved child as a piece of one’s liver—the dearest part of oneself.

I’ve never used that phrase, and I rarely hear it anymore.

Meanwhile, I’m reading an American war novel in which one of the soldiers keeps telling everyone, “Eat your livers.”

Then he laughs.

I find it hilarious.

Now I have one more liver saying to add to my own reservoir.