Skip to main content

Dear Body: A Love Letter


Dear Body:

Hi!  How are you?

I am so grateful for you.  You are my biggest fan.  You take whatever I give you and you try to make it good.  You let me know what you like, what you prefer, but then you make everything good.  You quietly go about your work.  I'm sorry for treating you so poorly sometimes.  I know you forgive me.  You are miraculous.

Body,  I love how you speak first.  You speak to my Knowing before my brain does, and because of that, I know I can always trust you.  I love how you constantly speak to me of the next best thing.  You speak, I listen, We heal.  Your ability to heal is one of my very favorite things about you.  It inspires me.  It brings me hope.

Body, thank you for all the physical sensations that make up my wild, beautiful life.  Emotions are what give my life flavor; thank you for them.  Thank you for the feeling of hard exercise.  Thank you for the feeling of orgasm.  Thank you for the feeling of cuddling loved ones.  And back scratches.  And foot massages.  Thank you for growing my babies, and thank you for childbirth.  Thank you, Body, for the feeling of crawling in bed after a long day.

Thank you for pain.  Thank you for growth.  You are the means to experiencing everything I love.  Every adventure I take is possible because of you.  Body, you've been with me for it all.  You and I burst into this world together.  For 37 years, 7 months, 4 days, and 9 hours -- every moment I've ever had was you and me-- together.

You pour into me whether I'm conscious of you or not.  Every 3 seconds you pour.

Inhale.  Exhale.  Inhale.  Exhale.

You are inspiring.  You are a gift without price.  You are my most valuable possession here on earth.

I'm here for you.  I'll take great care of you.  I'll honor, defend and lift you high.  We are in this together.  I am forever grateful that you are mine.  Till death do us part.

I love you.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

What is it all For? (our musical journey)

In the nine years since I became a mother, I have often pondered the purpose of music in our mortal experience. In observing each of my children, it was apparent within the first few weeks of life that each newborn understood the language of music. Music calms and soothes them. Music enlivens and liberates them. Children and adults of all ages naturally connect with music, and express themselves through it.  We are all excited, liberated, and calmed by it. As a preschooler, Holden was especially drawn to musical notes, and began composing original melodies at three years old. When he was four years old he begged me to teach him how to play the piano. We began the beginner books together, and he LOVED it! As his abilities grew and his love for the instrument blossomed, and I began feeling pressure to find him a "real" teacher. After a highly recommended referral, we hired a young college student who was studying music at the university to come to our house once a week to t...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Loss Is Not So Great

It is better as it is: I have failed but I can sleep; Though the pit I now am in is very dark and deep I can walk tomorrow's streets and can meet tomorrow's men Unashamed to face their gaze as I go to work again. I have lost the hope I had; in the dust are all my dreams, But my loss is not so great or so dreadful as it seems; I made my fight and though I failed I need not slink away For I do not have to fear what another man may say. They may call me over-bold, they may say that I was frail; They may tell I dared too much and was doomed at last to fail; They may talk my battle o'er and discuss it as they choose, But I did no brother wrong-- I'm the only one to lose. It is better as it is: I have kept my self-respect. I can walk tomorrow's streets meeting all men head erect. No man can charge his loss to a pledge I did not keep; I have no shame to regret: I have failed, but I can sleep. -Edgar A. Guest "The Loss Is Not So Great" When Day Is Done
Post a Comment
Read more

She Who Walks Down My Street

From the place where I'm sitting, I hear her cane thumping long before she's in sight. I'm feeling busied, hurried, tired from many commitments in my day. I've sat down to rest but the sitting-still makes me feel antsy. I wish there were someone to sit-still with. I feel flustered about my kids being on their phones; so I pick up my phone and begin to scroll. I feel lonely, I feel mad. I wonder if I have the right to blame anyone but me. And then I hear the thumping. Thump, step, step. Thump, step, step. I instinctively lay my phone down as a salute of respect. She's walking. Just. Walking. She's not texting five people, watching a webinar, stressing about her teens on their phones, rotating laundry, feeling lost about running an organization, planning grocery lists for birthdays and campouts or endlessly wrestling with the state of her marriage. She's just walking. Thump, step, step. Thump, step, step. I can feel my breath moving in and out. My hands now em...
Post a Comment
Read more