Good Morning Body, Today I Hear You

Good morning body. I forgot about you and I’m so sorry. Today, I will remember you.

I will invite movement and joy back into my body. I will touch you, hold you and rejoice in you.

No longer will I allow fear of the unknown to form a barrier between us.

Instead, bringing recognition to every inch of you.

There is a weighty dread that has surrounded us and separated us. A vast gulf dividing the body from spirit.

Like dipping a toe into too hot water and recoiling from its sting, I have hovered outside of you.

With every pang of pain and twinge of discomfort, I simply shrank away.

My mind became my safe haven. Meanwhile, leaving you cold and in the rain.

Forty-eight cycles of the moon later, my mind lays enfeebled by the toil.

The toil of carrying this weight alone, without its body for support.

My body still shivers from the abandonment, stumbles without its soul to hold it upright.

Body from mind, mind from body…there’s a misconception the two can’t be separated.

Yet, with stubborn will and determination, I have proven it true.

Floating above you, I have watched you falter with cold detachment.

Or was it fear, trepidation and low self-esteem?

I didn’t know how to help you, couldn’t fathom what you needed.

When, all along, all you needed was for me to listen and to hear.

With the patience of a protective love, all you needed was a warm embrace.

Good morning body. I forgot about you and I’m so sorry. Today, I will remember you.

There was a time when we leapt and swayed together, laughed and cried together.

It was assumed, taken for granted, this body and mind connection.

With the first glitches my hackles were up. ‘What was that?’, I said. ‘You’ve never done that before.’

When it happened again and then again, I was angry. ‘Why are you doing this? I’ve treated you so well.’

When you started to falter I lacked understanding, I feared the unknown.

You stuttered and I stopped.

I didn’t know how to listen. Instead, I ducked and covered. I cowered and shut you off.

My body became foreign to me, an object unknown.

I tip-toed around it, so many questions untold.

For years I heard your pings for attention, but social media alerts garnered more of my scrutiny.

A rumble here, an eruption there and I floated above it all, oblivious to your needs.

Choosing instead to strap a band around my solar plexus, severing our bond indeterminably.

Cinched just below my ribs, my legs dangling like a marionette.

Like a ghost my spirit wandered alone, like a corpse my body roamed unattended.

Finally, after years of this slog, I found savasana and child’s pose.

It was in these poses that I encountered self-love. Finally, my mind and body were speaking again.

Good morning body. I forgot about you and I’m so sorry. Today, I will hear you. Today, I will listen.

Today, my dear body, I will sit with you.

All day, my dear body, I will sit in you.

When I awake in the morning, I will say hello to you, each beautiful piece of you.

From my toes to my crown, I appreciate you.

I feel you. I know you. I am grateful for you.

I am in awe of your profound ability to fight, endure and conquer.

With tenderness, we embrace each other.

Good morning body. I forgot about you and I’m so sorry. Today, I will hear you. Today, I will listen.

It’s in savasana where I learned to sink back into you, seeping slowing.

With halting progress I’m finding my way.

As my mind releases into child’s pose I hear an audible sigh.

Blood and intention flowing where it has feared to go for so long.

So many years I have been stringing this body along, afraid to feel again.

Not today.

Hips relaxing, energy into the pelvis, light reaching into my toes.

The jaw is always the last to let go. This jaw that has carried my weight for too long.

And the strap, the strap that severed us through the middle of our power center,

I remove you. I un-cinch you. I regain the flow of energy from my crown to my toes.

Breathing deep into my abdomen, percolating source love through every muscle, tissue and bone.

Good morning body. I forgot about you and I’m so sorry. Today, I hear you and I am listening.

Today I invite movement and joy into my body. I touch you, I hold you and I rejoice in you.

I am no longer allowing fear to form a barrier between us.

Instead, I bring recognition to every glorious inch of you.

I find comfort in my body, even through the pain.