What stories does your body want to tell? #7
A series like this wouldn’t be complete without a photo of me tucked up in bed, on my laptop because this is so much of what I do every day. The writing, reading, reaching out into the world through the mad bad spaces of the interwebs.
I’ve been thinking a lot over the past few weeks about embodiment and embodied experiences, how we can never escape the corporeality of our bodies, the fact that everything we experience and love and hate and feel is negotiated through our bodies.
Sometimes I so dislike this body I’m in, or wish I could change parts of it (less now, but still occasionally so), or resent its entire heavy awkwardness. But then sometimes, also, I am glad for all that it allows me to do — that it creates situations for me to be in that eventually make great stories, that it connects me to other people in conversation and laughing and hugs, that it can go for a dance and feel all the adrenaline-endorphin thrills of a good sweaty bop.
Or sometimes, it just stays in bed all day, read a book or write a blog post. (And the cosiness, feel-good factor of this should never be underestimated!)
All of it is good, and all of it is to be loved, even if we struggle with it sometimes. I will probably always want slimmer thighs, bigger boobs, a smaller double chin. But now, more often, I remember that I already have all 10 fingers that can type and write, all my limbs in perfect strength to do a good yoga session, all my senses in tact to feel all the glorious things there are out there, silent organs that merrily work away on the inside of me without me even having to tell them what to do to keep me safe and warm and chugging along doing what I do. That’s good enough. In fact, it’s plenty more than many of us can ask for.