What If Your Body Has Been Doing Her Best All Along?
“Take care of your body. It’s the only place you have to live.”
– Jim Rohn
A SURPRISING CONVERSATION WITH MY BODY
The assignment on our Zoom call two weeks ago seemed simple enough: draw an outline of a body, then reflect on where we feel grief or what part of our body we grieve. The next step? Write an apology to that part.
We had already spent an hour talking about hangups we have with our bodies and how to make peace with them, to go along with our theme for March, “My Body.” (This month we’re also reading Returning Home to Our Bodies for a book club; it’s excellent so far!)
I sketched a rough figure and drew arrows pointing to my stomach. It has always been a source of frustration for me—even in my youth, when it really wasn’t a problem, but I still believed it was.
But before I could apologize to my stomach, my stomach threw an accusation back at me:
“You realize this is the best I can do with what you give me.”
Okay, fair point. While I try to eat fairly healthy, I do still feed junk to my stomach more often than I’d like to admit.
THIS WORD FEELS WRONG
The next step of the body exercise was to reduce our previous statement down to three words. I knocked off all the words except:
“This is best”
even though nothing felt best about this exercise so far.
Then, from those three words, we had to choose just one word.
I circled:
“Best”
But really? Best? It felt disingenuous. It’s a word I never use in talking about my body.
As the days passed, however, I continued thinking about it. And started seeing some truth in it. My body has always done its best for me—protecting me, caring for me, moving me through the world wherever I’ve wanted to go.
No matter how I’ve treated her, she has always shown up for me and stayed with me, even through injuries and pain.
A TOUCHSTONE FOR GRATITUDE
To complete the homework assignment after the call, we were asked to create a Body Touchstone—something meaningful to hold onto, marked with the word we chose.
This part was easy. I picked a small seashell from a past beach trip. It serves a dual purpose: it reminds me of my One Word for the year, Ripple, since it’s from the water and has ripples on it, and it once housed another living creature—just as my body is home to me.
I wrote Best on the inside of the shell.
I know my body and I will continue our ongoing discussions and arguments (and sometimes shaming battles) about her flaws. We’ve done it for years. I hope one day we’ll stop—and we do better now than we have in the past—but I’m also realistic that an aging body can be even harder to accept.
Yet I’m still grateful for my body’s persistence and resilience to stay with me until the day I take my final breath. She and I are together in a tight relationship of ripples. Some things I do will affect her more than other things, and vice versa. But either way, we’re inseparable.
I put the shell my pocket each morning. Several times a day I reach down and touch it, each time reminding me to speak to my body with gratitude instead of criticism.
She’s not perfect. But my body is the place I began, and the place I start anew each morning. She is the best place for me to be.
Share your thoughts in the comments.
Read more:
- How Present Are You in Your Happy Place?
I was literally in my happy place. Yet my mind wandered off. Was my body still keeping the score anyway, in a good way? - Body, I Forgive You
Our flesh won’t always cooperate with our spirit. We can either resent the limitations or find a way to work within them. Body, I forgive you. - When Compassion for Others Takes a Sharp Turn: A Lesson in Vulnerability
Our mother/daughter experience donating blood took an unexpected turn, reminding me of the value of vulnerability and the importance of compassion.
- How Is Life Different Today Compared to When You Were a Child?
- Surrender to the Moment: 5 Little Things to Give Up
Embodiment has been a healing path for me, too. I love your ending here and your graphic. I will check out that book!
One idea that I recently encountered is that when we send messages of criticism and judgment towards our bodies, they interpret that as a threat, which can create or exacerbate health issues. It’s not just the substances we put into our body that affect it. We need to create a healthy diet of thoughts and feelings, too.
The good things is that healing cycles can replace unhealthy ones and truly amazing changes are possible. I’ve started to experience some myself, too soon to say if they are permanent but I am hopeful. I hope your “Best” reminder can stay with you as a healing message, too.
The words of Psalm 139 that say my soul knows that I’m fearfully and wonderfully made have challenged me when I tend to be so critical. I enjoyed your conversation with your body.
“She’s not perfect. But my body is the place I began, and the place I start anew each morning. She is the best place for me to be.” This is so true and incredibly powerful.
I loved this whole idea, Lisa! It just may have made me curious enough to give the exercise a try myself! Thanks for sharing.
What a challenge this is! I love how you take on new things even if they stretch you a bit like this exercise did and even this one combined with your word of the year. How cool was that!
This is an important message for all of us, but particularly for those of us whose bodies are failing us either because of aging or disease. Even then, the body is doing the best it can.
I am learning to do better at the work of supporting my body in its work.
Such an interesting exercise. The human body is a miraculous thing, always striving for homeostasis. I’m in awe of its ability to right itself in spite of what we do to it. And I marvel that, with all the things that can go wrong, more things don’t. I’m a proponent of the psychosomatic connections, i.e. dis-ease leading to disease. I’ve put the book on my TBR list.
Wow, to this, Lisa –> ‘ I’m still grateful for my body’s persistence and resilience to stay with me until the day I take my final breath. She and I are together in a tight relationship of ripples. Some things I do will affect her more than other things, and vice versa. But either way, we’re inseparable.’
As I head toward 70 this is like a kind invitation I want to say yes to. No more shaming and looking back to who she was half a century ago.
Lisa, this is so profound and insightful. Thank you for sharing this! Pinning to share and save. <3 Visiting from the Love Your Creativity linkup.
Lisa, this was beautifully written. This is something I needed to read. I will feature your post this Friday at the Crazy Little Lovebirds link party.
What a wonderful way to gain perspective. I may have to try this exercise myself.