I live my life through the words I write
There are days
like today
I need the weather
to grant me permission
to slow down.
Fluffy clumps of frozen water
fall in a parade
beyond the window pane.
Hypnotizing.
Fighting my body
to move, to work,
to achieve productivity.
Fighting against will.
Sit, rest,
watch the snow fall.
This is needed, too.
Forced to take a step back,
to slow down, slow way down.
My body has made it clear
she cannot keep up any longer.
I remember a time where I could do all this and more
but times have changed.
My body has changed. I have changed.
Tending to her injuries,
reinforcing the structural integrity,
I whisper apologies
and promises to do better, to be better.
Change has forced itself upon me
and I must accept it.
This last attempt will go as planned
but this time, according to my schedule.
My body says she’s ready,
and I believe her.
I trust her.
I know she’s looking out for me.
May the weeks unfold ahead
as they are meant.
With my whole body,
I trust.
I came home to my body today.
There she was, waiting for me
with an embrace to wrap me twice around.
I listened to what she needed,
I shared with her my desires,
we worked together.
Partners.
I had forgotten what her love felt like,
how much she has to give.
I remember now,
now that I’m back home.
Sweat dripping down my forehead,
gathering underneath my eyes and down my neck,
spreading out and over my arms
like water spilled from a glass
reaching out across the floor.
Thoughts of hot, running water and soap
traveling over my body
fill my mind through a vinyasa,
though I’m supposed to be focused on my breath.
Slowing down my breath and body
into the stillness of shavasana,
I rest in the final resting pose,
resting.
I roll over to the right side and push myself upright
to find my skin dry, the sweat evaporated,
leaving my skin with an energetic film
reminding me of the work I have done
for me.
I’ll keep it on my skin a while longer.
I can acknowledge the discomfort
and the depths it reaches
down into my blood and bones.
I can see it there,
give it a name,
inspect and observe its nature,
its behavior.
Why has it chosen to bury here
in my body?
What does it yearn to tell me,
to show me?
How can I help it heal, move on?
What can I find in the space
it leaves behind?
I can acknowledge the discomfort
and grant it permission
to help me heal,
and grow.
You can trust yourself.
Surrender mind to body.
Dive in, and let go.
It’s OK to take it easy,
slow down your pace for a while,
if your body tells you it needs such.
I hear this from my body today,
a yearning to just be,
without constraints or expectations.
She yearns for me to listen, and oblige,
the least I could do.
She asks for love, and compassion,
and acceptance.
Unconditionally.
“Love me just the way I am, now.”
So today, I will slow down,
listen to, and love
my body.
Love yourself a little harder now
through the pain that came from your own hands
through the pain in your body
through the fear of the world out there.
Love yourself through it all
today
and tomorrow
and the next.
I want to believe in my body
I want to believe we can do this,
that we were meant to do this.
I know she’s strong
I know she would do amazing
come through on the other side
successful.
I know she’s capable of anything.
I know her
and I want to believe in her
but with every month that passes
it feels harder and harder to believe.
Maybe,
I don’t know my body that well after all.
Dawning Words 