Trash Talk

I’m done trash talking this little body of mine. Love myself does include loving my body. Can’t get around it. I’ve left it behind, squirmed when I walked by the mirror naked, heck clothed for that matter, and totally ignored it when I could. No wonder it’s hurting.

When I was a child my dad told me I’d never be racehorse. Racehorses, long legs and long necks, were evidently his ideal for a woman. Interesting since he married a shorty who gave birth to not quite so short girls. He said it with such certainty that who was I not to believe him. He’d taken my measure and I came up short — 5’4″ to be exact 😉 That set me upon a quest, laden with self-condemnation, to find a self I could accept, a quest that could only be recognized, never won.

This body balked at the abuse. I heaped it on for years and it kept going but finally, it cried uncle. Enough! Stop. It had to get my attention and that it did emphatically. It took what it took. Something lesser would never have stopped the momentum, would not have ground the well-oiled body negation machine to a standstill.

I’m done dissing my body. This little body of mine has never denied me life’s full experience even when I denied it. It has given me its all even when I couldn’t feel all it had it give me. Through it, I have savored sunsets, felt the glory of a newborn babe in my arms and the warm surge of joy when Kenny whispered, I love you. These eyes and this tongue detected the juicy ripeness of my plum and apple, fig and pear trees and luxuriated in the deliciousness of being alive. This belly giggled until tears flowed from my eyes watching the antics of precocious chickens. This body is a marvel of life, a fountain of experiencing, an enchantress to be celebrated, to be appreciated, to be loved.

How did I ever miss that?

I am done bad mouthing you sweet body. I am so sorry I didn’t see your truth. You stand at the intersection of heaven and earth, a portal for consciousness. You arise from, are known in, and are made of consciousness, in the essential essence of This I Am, a blooming 3D miracle. Consciousness may be king but the body is queen in this dreamscape of life. Without the body, consciousness remains aware, not of the world, but of pure potential, an infinite without the finite consciousness. Without you sweet little one, the game here on planet earth ends.

It is such a grand feeling to truly, actually, absolutely say I love you sweetheart, to say it sans tongue in cheek, no holds barred. Please accept my apologies. I was blinded by my lust for something better not realizing I was given a gift beyond anyone’s measure.

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