Of Gums and Cellos
Between dentistry and music
Wednesday evening, Giovanni Sollima's concert at Villa Pignatelli, in Naples, Italy, then Thursday morning, tartar removal - (something I recommend everyone do routinely). Two seemingly distinct moments, yet converging in the same neuronal geography.
With his bow, the cellist was cutting through reality's womb with each stroke, beyond mere sound, bringing forth increasingly vivid emotional matter. Each touch didn't slice but unveiled delicate membranes of sensitivity. His movement was surgical and revelatory, identical to the dentist's tool crushing calcareous deposits: both instruments capable of penetrating beyond the surface.
Seated in the chair, under surgical light, a consciousness crystallized: neurons did not categorize experiences by pleasure or pain. They were merely conductors of frequencies—melodies or instrumental vibrations.
The ablation—a periodontal hygiene intervention with 30,000 Hz ultrasounds—removed tartar above and below the gum line—a micro-intervention involving mineral deposit removal through a vibrating metallic tip.
I closed my eyes. Receptors responded according to millennia-old patterns: pupil dilation, and accelerated breathing. This wasn't fear, but a biological vigilance protocol, a memory preparing the body to integrate the stimulus.
The dentist proceeded. Each movement narrated a geography of pain: not as a threshold, but as a territory. I observed defence mechanisms: neutrophils mobilizing inflammatory response lines, macrophages cleaning cells, and fibroblasts preparing for reconstruction. A microscopic army operating without conscious direction.
I thought about the body: not passive spectators, but dynamic interfaces. Pain was not a weakness, but a language of self-knowledge. Every nerve ending: a story.
Gums pulsed. Not just reactions, but forms of intelligence. The body thought, processed, and interpreted—no separation between mind and matter.
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At home, chamomile attenuated tension, rebalancing neurotransmitters. A final act of recomposition after the sensory storm.
I returned to the cello. That music, too, traversed, tore through. Its stroke generated a fragmentation identical to the dentist's tool. Two instruments: one auditory, one physical.
The body: not an object, but a medium of experience. Between concert and ablation, everything vibrated. We were waves, resonances, continuous metamorphoses.
Everything flowed. Everything palpitated.
Giovanni Sollima, "Fecit Neap 17"
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