Human Sacrifice

*This was an older blog that I wrote during my first semester of college. My English professor at the time had asked us to keep a journal...which I didn't until the day before it was due when I sat down, iPod cranked to full volume and penned 40 pages of what was supposed to be "Stream of Consciousness" writing but ended up being nonsense suffused with some really interesting (and frankly, disturbing) bits like this one.*

The PreColumbian peoples of Central and South America were frequently practioners of the rather controversial human sacrifice. Although many cultures practiced and continue to practice animal sacrifice, there were several that chose to give human blood as a more potent offering to whatever deity was to be appeased. The specific means of sacrifice that is on my mind is the removal of the human heart. In an elaborate ceremony, the heart of the sacrificial person was cut directly from the body and, in theory, held aloft while still beating. Being a rather morbid person, I ask myself, is that even possible? Would the heart continue to beat? Was the chest cracked open or did they remove the organ by means of the abdomen? I wonder, did the victim die right away or were they afforded the grotesque privilege of watching the event before they expired?
Honestly, if I were going be sacrificed in this way, and my heart was to be dug out of my chest, I would want to see it. What does that cursed lump of flesh look like? Is it small, does it still beat? What good will it do them if it caused me so much trouble? They should probably have picked someone with a cleaner slate!
The idea is much like that of our brains. We all have a brain, just as we all have a heart. My brain is the center of my person, where all my thoughts and dreams originate. Yet, I have never seen it with my own eyes. A scientist can tell me how my brain works; he can describe its parts and their functions. He could even scan it with high-tech equipment and then show me the images. I could even look at someone else's brain if I were truly curious. But I will never see my own brain. My heart is the same way.
I bet the person died or at least passed out from the pain before the act was even finished. Then again, what is pain when you are given the opportunity to look upon your own heart? Certainly it would be better to die with that knowledge than to go quickly, still unaware of the nature of your own flesh. Would I be disappointed in what I viewed? And if I was, what could be done?