I'm in the cutting room -- having a minor surgery. Minor, yes, with a resulting one and a half inch scar and a directive to avoid walking and exercise for the next three weeks. The doctor tells me risk of infection is high and there's not much I can do about that. I am told not to travel for a month.
I'm given Vicodan. I hold the bottle in my hands, then set it down on the counter. Drained from the pain, yet I prefer it to the foggy head and constipation of Vicodan. I will hold the bottle, then place it back on the counter and just breathe. Slowly. Deeply. Inhale. Exhale.
My imperfect body, once a source of frustration and brutal self-criticism, is now my love. I love this body that has so generously served my ambitions, my passions, and my steely persistent will.
This body that takes me for walks along the glistening lake, in the crisp air, breeze on my face, arms swinging freely, nourished by the trees and the water.
This body that is always willing to dance, to sing, to cook a meal for friends. This body that experiences the pleasure of a tender touch and the trembling ecstasy of intimacy.
I have grown weary of this American dialog, a dialog of mind at war with body. Mind always right, of course. Mind, the dictator. Mind, the jailer. Body, the servant. Body, the victim, of mind, the bully.
Will declaring war on our bodies bring us into the fullness of health? How's that working out? Maybe, a momentary victory here or there; but an enduring peace -- not so much.
My friend, Amanda, taught me that the imperfect Barbie dolls, the ones missing patches of hair, the ones with an odd pigmentation here and there, are the most collected, most rare and most valuable. They are perfect.
I have come to see my imperfect body as my greatest teacher. My mind is finally learning it's not the only game in town. Empowered, my wise body knows whom to trust, knows what to do, and brings sensing and feeling to my world of doing. My perfectly imperfect body teaches me that war has no winners. Love conquers all.
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Your personal reflection
I wish you all the best and a speedy recovery. Fabulous post, as always, you make me think till it hurts.
Over the years of working this out, I came to notice that in health, my mind was the bully, my body was the victim. Mind the jailer, body the prisoner. In sickness, the tables turned -- mind became the victim, the prisoner, and body was the bully, the jailer.
In January, 2005, on my way to a surgery, I spent an hour with a longtime friend who gave me the CD series, Loving What Is. Before this, I'd read volumes about the mindbody connection
The Work, which I learned about through Loving What Is, practicing on my own, and later working with those certified in it, turned out to be the most powerful tool in shifting my mindbody relationsh
Another helpful resource, a book that just came out this year, is Dr. Daniel Siegel's MINDSIGHT.
It's an extraordin
Linda
I completely agree with you on all these points. Allopathic medicine, though helpful at times, creates this dichotomy that pervades a mass cultural view of healing as killing off the bad guys rather than tending to the garden of the body. As Amandastor
Sally
Amandastor
Thanks again for your comments. I love reading them.
Real health comes from the inside out, through what you make a part of your physical self, with what you eat, and breathe, and the consciousn
Declaring war on yourself, trying to control, to will yourself healthy perpetuate
The mind, without connection to the body, is a dangerous thing, with a perception of awarenss as an inconvieni
Yet with each supression
Let it out.