I was looking for a picture to give to someone–a picture of myself, and it became very clear that I am not free of hang-ups. I hate my pictures. They don’t reflect who I am. And my ego doesn’t like them either–they are not flattering. No. I don’t take good pictures. That is because I don’t generally live in the physical realm very much, but its high time I did, because I have to bless my body, i have to become friends with it. There is a lot of talk about not being the body, as if it is some old rag to be thrown off. But this body has seen me through a lifetime! This body was a newborn baby once and someone held me and loved me. This body climbed trees and chased rainbows and fell in love with thunder. This body had babies and grieved when the firstborn died at 37. This body has danced! And walked in rivers and prayed in empty churches. This body has had communion, the Holy Eucharist. When the host touched my tongue for the first time, my life changed. And I didn’t expect it to because i wasn’t Catholic at the time. It was an accidental communion at a friend’s wedding. I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to receive. Apparently, God thought the churches’ rule didn’t apply to me.
This body has worked in the fields in summer and felt the rain and made love and been sick and almost died and …so much more.
Yes, we are more than our bodies, but we ought to respect the life our body has carried us into and sustains us and allows us to chant and meditate and smile at the one we love.
It is time to do my yoga: the yoga of releasing shame for my scars and crumbling bones. I Yam what I yam as popeye says
Dear body, Dear Ja-niece Manjeet Amrita Bisset, I breathe. And With this breath, I thee wed, until death do us part.