|photo by igor zenin|
She loved to soar, to feel her long hair tickle her back as she dreamed herself winged and free. When things hurt, she would sing a little tune and take herself away, away with her imagination—anywhere her wings dared soar, just not there, in the moment, where it hurt the most.
But her body?
It lingered behind,
weighing her down.
“Ground yourself. We need you here on earth. Face your fears. Please…!” They seemed to yell as those hips they grew and grew and grew, now too big for yet another pair of pants, “Please share your beauty with the world, not just the heavenly skies. We need you here! Only then will we stop trying to ground you, only then will we stop our speak.”
And when she finally listened,
she lost all that weight.
Her friends asked her how she did it, to share her diet
And when she answered, she left them all confused
For what she said was simple,
she just listened
to her body
* * *
Every time he walked into that house, his legs began to ache. But he didn’t listen. He thought life was just a lot quieter in that house, the one at the end of the cul-de-sac with the beauty bark and the vinyl siding, and the wife he thought he loved, so quiet that he only noticed the aching in his legs...there. Work was loud. Restaurants and bars were loud. Even friend’s houses were loud. He felt the aches in his legs only at home simply because it was quiet there, right?
So his body had no choice but to speak a little louder.
He loaded up on potassium and magnesium since someone said he must have been vitamin deficient. Then he took up jogging, because maybe he wasn’t exercising enough. But still, every time he walked back into that house, the one at the end of the cul-de-sac, with the wife he thought he loved, his legs, they began to ache.
Then one day, he got into his car and drove away. And he noticed, for the first time, that his legs, they didn’t ache anymore. So he turned around and drove back home. And there in the garage, he noticed, even with his music blaring, that the aching had returned.
“Get out, move on, let us carry you away!” they seemed to yell to this man who seemed as if he could not hear.
But he did that day in the garage.
To his body speak.
And saved himself
from a life
that no longer served
* * *
Our bodies speak—sometimes quietly, sometimes loudly, but they always, always have a voice and they only speak for us to hear. My Wish for you this week, is that you begin to listen more closely to your own body speak. How does it react to this setting or that person or the sugar in that spoon? Why does it hurt then and tingle there, and are you really sure it’s the shoes and not a message from your knees? Regardless of how old you are, when you listen to your body speak you learn more about who you are not just as a person but as a soul, a soul on a journey. You learn that you are not first a body. You are first a soul. And as a soul, your path is much, much bigger than any diagnosis or pill can ever address. Truth is, your body is your ally and every day, every hour, every moment, it is guiding you with the unceasing, all encompassing wisdom—of your soul. Honor it by listening to your body speak, and it can do nothing less than honor You.