My Body, My Friend: Finding the Spiritual in my Toes

two friends having teaThis article also appears on the Huffington Post.

“Is it possible to find the spiritual in the body?” a reader of my blog asked in response to a post on body image. My first reaction was, “No way. There’s nothing spiritual about my toes.”

However, I continued to explore this: Could it be that the spiritual is in this body? There were a lot of thoughts in my mind that disagreed with this, e.g.: “The body is of this earth. It’s banal, temporary, and dirty. It’s a vessel for the soul which is all that is spiritual. It serves a purpose and is not spiritual. It gets old, it dies and therefore cannot be spiritual.”

These thoughts went on and on and were reinforced by some things I was reading. For instance, there is a school of thought in the self-help community that “the body keeps score.” This is meant to be helpful in terms of letting people know that, or become aware of, how you live your life and the thoughts that you have are impacting your body and your body can tell you a lot about the life of your mind.

Though when I reflected on this – the body as a referee of my life – it felt incredibly negative and dualistic. My body vs. my mind and my body is the judge and jury and will sentence me to . . . illness and, of course, death at some previously undisclosed point.

So none of this was entirely ringing true: the body as a vessel or the body as a referee. Could I find in my body, even in my toes, the spiritual?

What if my body is spirit in the same way as my soul? Why do I cling to this dualism (tri-ism?) of mind-body-soul?

The truly troubling trend in all these thoughts seemed to be an antagonism toward my body. Then I had a thought: What if I befriended my body? What if, rather than seeing her as a scowling referee, I saw her as a friend (an old friend in my case) who wants to tell me something?

Perhaps she’s that very dear friend who wants to have tea with me and tell me something true. Perhaps she wants to speak to me with deep honesty. It may not be easy to hear. These truths she holds and wants to share with me may be surprising or difficult to accept and, yet, I must hear them.

Maybe she wants to tell me that those work choices that I continue to make, the ones that round my shoulders and hang my head, are not the right ones for me. Maybe this will be difficult to hear, but she is a dear friend who is on my side, who wants to share with me the truth of what is.

Perhaps rather than thinking of her as a means to end, I can see how she makes “it” all possible. She makes this life possible. She makes the joy of being here with others, of being in a conversation and relationship with others, sharing my gifts, writing these words, eating beautiful food, and connecting with nature, she makes it all possible.

I was in a meeting one day at work, and a colleague was speaking with such honesty and kindness and as I listened to him and watched his face move, I thought about how his spirit was being expressed by his body. How the reason he was able to share that truth and beauty was because his body was there and allowing / facilitating the expression of his words and soul.

So I offer to you this approach in this journey to the spiritual in the body: think of your body as a friend. She is here for you and makes this complicated, beautiful life happen. Be kind to her, offer her tea and biscuits, and listen carefully to her wisdom. She has a beautiful story to share with you.

Wishing for you a deep spiritual friendship with every aspect of who you are.

A Vow to Myself

Wedding VowThis article also appears on The Huffington Post

My abs are tight, stomach flat, legs and arms strong and fit, I haven’t had a cold in months – I’m beautiful. I love myself. This body, she is wonderful and I feel so much love for her.

But then . . . something changes. A cold sneaks up on me and I’m sneezing, stuffy, and coughing – feeling miserable. Or I’m busy at work and haven’t done any crunches in weeks and my abdominal muscles return to their womanly shape. Or time has simply marched on and my muscle tone and skin tone have changed – not so tight anymore. I show my age.

How can I love this body? She’s not pleasing me right now. She doesn’t allow me to maintain the façade of youth. She gets sick – sometimes very seriously sick. How can she do this to me?

Can I love my body in sickness and in health? Can I love her unconditionally?

Honestly, that has been difficult for me. When things aren’t just right with my body, I notice my thoughts are not as kind, not as gentle. I hear my mind say, “How could this have happened?” As if I’m immune to all illness, injury, and aging. Then I hear, “If I don’t look great, I’ll lose so much in my life: work, relationships, attention.” Now, really mind is that true?

Let’s take a moment here for The Work from Byron Katie:

  1. Is it true? (Yes or no. If no, move to 3.)
  2. Can you absolutely know that it’s true? (Yes or no.)
  3. How do you react, what happens, when you believe that thought?
  4. Who would you be without the thought?

This thought is pretty easy to deconstruct:

  1. No
  2. [Skip]
  3. I’m mean to my body. I don’t treat her well. I’m judging her negatively and I want to hide her.
  4. I would be a being of love and light. I would love her unconditionally.

Ah, love unconditionally. Can I love my body as I love my beloved? Can I treat her the way I treat those I love the most in my life? Why is this so hard?

For me, I know that my expectations for my body are unrealistic. I also have habits of mind, deeply indoctrinated by our culture that are not kind and loving toward my body.

Lovingkindness extended to my body, just as I love my beloved. From this day forward I’m resolving to love my body . . . in sickness and in health. And so I’m offering this vow to my body, my beloved in this earthly realm:

I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love and honor you all the days of my life.

Wishing you an abundance of love that fills your being: body, mind, and spirit.

Self-love: Calling my body, “she”

This post also appears on The Huffington Post.

Photo by Janice E Lodato Calling my body she

One day as I entered a bathroom stall at work, I was thinking about my body. “It’s tired. It’s old. It aches.” — were the thoughts that went through my head. Then I stopped myself, both mind and body, and thought, “Why don’t you call your body “she”?” After 50 years on this planet this thought arrived as a revelation. I’ve always called this body, “it” and, unfortunately, there have been times I’ve treated it with disdain. Like many others I have struggled with liking and loving myself, especially my body.

For me, I clearly identify my body as female and calling her “she” makes sense. I know for others that perspective is not as clear and the words may be different for them, but I invite all of us to at least address our body with an animate pronoun or a name.

These bodies are pretty amazing. Let’s start with a few examples.

  1. Your Body, She is a healing machine. Our bodies are constantly working toward a state of health and equilibrium.
  2. Your Body, She enables you to do so much. To see the beauty of a sunrise, to hear the sounds of uplifting music, to walk in the woods – to name just a few. She is an enabler, not a burden.
  3. Your Body, She provides you with awareness. Not just body awareness, but also emotional awareness. As we tune-in to our bodies they tell us the truth about how we’re feeling and provide us with instinctual awareness about situations and the people in our lives.

Why would you not call your body, “she”? Because she gets sick and dies? Because she gets fat or thin with no rhyme or reason? Because she is subject to scrutiny and criticism by others, especially doctors and our inner self-critic? But she is just having a human experience. She is a human body with all its wonderful aspects and all of its imperfection. If she were your friend, would you treat her the way you treat your very own body?

So, is calling your body, “she,” really helpful? I have found that when I’m talking about my body as a “she” my thoughts and actions are gentler. For instance, the other day my knee hurt – maybe from running too much or too fast or from stretching too little. My mind said, “Go running anyway, you’ll be fine.” But my body . . . she said, “Please rest. One day off and a little extra stretching would do me wonders.” So, because I respect her and her innate wisdom, I rested. I stretched. The next day I felt great and was ready to roll again. She showed me how appreciative she was and I ran with ease and comfort.

This body, she really is wonderful. She accompanies me on great adventures, is a guiding force in so many of life’s pleasures, she shares her wisdom (often so quietly that I have to stop and listen and just breathe and sometimes with such force I’m startled by the sudden clenching of my stomach or how my breath is taken away). She is a kind companion on this journey of life and I bow in honor to her – my first best friend.