i feel no anger, just
a loose flame inside
with just a few select words
you made me smile big enough to cure cancer
what is this "you" button i can't switch off?
scully and mulder were soul-mates without
sexy times
but i guess that wasn't the case
with us
because i smelled you from years
away and always wanted you for dinner
when you dipped your finger and painted
a brief but elaborate
landscape of our unfolding
in the morning light all
the fluid fantasy had turned
to dried sediment
on our clothes
my mind clings
to it like a fish hooked
on a line
is it desperate to be
cut free, so much so that i
would rip my mouth
to get back to the underwater
solitude
or is that flailing a plea for
more freedom
a celebratory dance made
awkward and desperate-
looking for lack of limbs
i don't know why
even as i sit in good
company
new fall air tickling under
my collar
i feel apart from everything
i know and want
fastened to my declarations
and doubts like a blind dagger
thrower's unfortunate assistant
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Thursday, August 23, 2012
"hang there, my verse, in witness of my love"
running down the street in a flash of
incense and smokey garbage
a slick of fresh vomit gives speed to my already
speedy trajectory
going i don't know where
maybe towards hauling my goods everywhere
wobbly and wiry-haired, moving but slowly
through the streets in search of spare change
there's something about this city
always dodging something
on your way to anything and everything
constantly uncovering what it is to be brave
you could be leaning on some scaffolding where your stoop used to be
scratchin' at that lottery ticket like today could be the day
not the preacher not the hipster not the twin babies on the scooters
could make you pray
just that lotto ticket
today could be the day
or down the street, another neighbor's shirtless
hips pushed out like he was pissing on the ground as he tied, tied tight, that bandana around his head
pulling at it, to get it in place, to keep it right, to keep everything, everything in place, just right
strung out on too much life
so i tell myself no stress, get dressed,
no crying, except in gratitude
no more living for someone else to do the right thing
so angry i could spit fire and give myself a good case of gangrene
by fighting this unwillingness to unhook from another's scaly flesh
like decades-old wallpaper being stripped, inch by sticky inch
don't you ever just want a friend?
neither near nor far-
this thought's been at me like
a mosquito buzzing madness in my ear
a quick turn over my shoulder to catch it
and a puffy, pink reminder on my shoulder of just how evasive you are
peace, fleeting
ease in only every second step
the torment of a seeker is being reminded of your own intention
that was set
you know what you've done, what you've chosen,
that's your signature, you signed up for this
gums spontaneously bleeding to remind me i am not me i am not mine
saturn will loop back again, slap me upside the head one more time
in case i forget
stay - breathe - stay
it's not time to leave yet
just get up, start digging
i know you dug the hole yesterday,
but it's full now, and we all need water
the body you found is exactly the body you were meant to find
good and evil share a nexus
clearing away the dust and distortion is the virtue
right actions impact the shape of the mind
goodness gives life a slow-mo setting
time to enjoy, to respond instead of thrashing about at the pull of the hook
living has sunk into the soft meat of your cheek
there's no blame to be placed
nowhere else to be
ignorance and lethargy, passion and anxiety
leverage the scales, giving center a nationality
goodness + reason = freewill
not right nor left, not you nor me
but choosing oneness
hope
dare i say it: unity
every star you see is already burnt out
i know you'll die, or i
maybe even this love of ours
we just can't know which goes first
but the true death will come
if we don't even try
a pale heart turned to dust,
withered from thirst
...
incense and smokey garbage
a slick of fresh vomit gives speed to my already
speedy trajectory
going i don't know where
maybe towards hauling my goods everywhere
wobbly and wiry-haired, moving but slowly
through the streets in search of spare change
there's something about this city
always dodging something
on your way to anything and everything
constantly uncovering what it is to be brave
you could be leaning on some scaffolding where your stoop used to be
scratchin' at that lottery ticket like today could be the day
not the preacher not the hipster not the twin babies on the scooters
could make you pray
just that lotto ticket
today could be the day
or down the street, another neighbor's shirtless
hips pushed out like he was pissing on the ground as he tied, tied tight, that bandana around his head
pulling at it, to get it in place, to keep it right, to keep everything, everything in place, just right
strung out on too much life
so i tell myself no stress, get dressed,
no crying, except in gratitude
no more living for someone else to do the right thing
so angry i could spit fire and give myself a good case of gangrene
by fighting this unwillingness to unhook from another's scaly flesh
like decades-old wallpaper being stripped, inch by sticky inch
don't you ever just want a friend?
neither near nor far-
this thought's been at me like
a mosquito buzzing madness in my ear
a quick turn over my shoulder to catch it
and a puffy, pink reminder on my shoulder of just how evasive you are
peace, fleeting
ease in only every second step
the torment of a seeker is being reminded of your own intention
that was set
you know what you've done, what you've chosen,
that's your signature, you signed up for this
gums spontaneously bleeding to remind me i am not me i am not mine
saturn will loop back again, slap me upside the head one more time
in case i forget
stay - breathe - stay
it's not time to leave yet
just get up, start digging
i know you dug the hole yesterday,
but it's full now, and we all need water
the body you found is exactly the body you were meant to find
good and evil share a nexus
clearing away the dust and distortion is the virtue
right actions impact the shape of the mind
goodness gives life a slow-mo setting
time to enjoy, to respond instead of thrashing about at the pull of the hook
living has sunk into the soft meat of your cheek
there's no blame to be placed
nowhere else to be
ignorance and lethargy, passion and anxiety
leverage the scales, giving center a nationality
goodness + reason = freewill
not right nor left, not you nor me
but choosing oneness
hope
dare i say it: unity
every star you see is already burnt out
i know you'll die, or i
maybe even this love of ours
we just can't know which goes first
but the true death will come
if we don't even try
a pale heart turned to dust,
withered from thirst
...
Monday, August 13, 2012
i'm watching myself more closely these days, and from a certain vantage point, i look a little...well, lost, actually. maybe that was the point. not so long ago, i recall glorifying the benefits of getting lost in my new city (from the safety of my home, surrounded by my loved ones.) now that i am on this journey, part of me is not so sure; "where the hell are we going?!" she asks. well, thankfully i don't have to grit my teeth and lie to my frantic self, just quote someone else's line of wisdom that appeared in my inbox today: wise, wise angel o' mine announced, "getting lost is not a waste of time." oh, thank god...
although sometimes it feels that way, in a big way. the goal, i suppose, is to stay on the path. to sit with yourself, all of yourselves, and listen. deepak chopra said, "great change is always preceded by chaos," and i have to say this current current of chaos running through me is definitely playing games with my head. cyclically wondering why i can't seem to sleep enough, or get enough ice cream, or find anything to slow down the thoughts, some well-trained part of me knows that i have to stay with it, breathing, in order to usher in the change that is imminent.
a common question these days, from the people i'm meeting in new york, to friends back home and even myself late at night, is, "so, why did you move?" i liken this urge to uproot and move away to a scout's trek (this theme suggests that maybe i'm destined to be a scout leader...) through the woods: the pack follows the leader that way, and i see a cumbersome and mysterious trail leading...nowhere. i have to take it! i have to know what's down there! and suddenly i'm alone on the path i chose, and it's terrifying! but what i know is that it's worse to live with the feeling of not having chosen my own way. i have increasing clarity around what is important to me and what i'm willing to do for it, what i want to do with myself in the long run (i'll tell you about that later), and that impulse has pushed me here, into the rawness of my own heart. girl scouts of america...watch out, here i come. you'll always be prepared for wet, bendy sex. tongue. in. cheek.
this morning, as i sat picking apart every little choice i've made so far, demonizing myself for being human and a little vulnerable, i was finally able to wrench myself free for long enough to come to the conclusion that, i was, in fact, acting like a dance mom. to myself. how about a little compassion, eh? and then i remembered an article that a friend recently shared with me about kicking bad habits (i would call judgment a pretty nasty habit.) the author wrote, "We do it until we don’t do it." a fairly simple breakdown of releasing old patterns through compassion. just like we have to trust our loved ones to get where they need to be on their own time, we must find that same trust in ourselves and the time it takes to get the lessons we need to learn figured out. all of our vices are ours for a reason: they are our greatest teachers. so on this ever exciting and sometimes treacherous path, i'll hope for continued grace, and remembrance that:
the tremble of tears that shifts the ground beneath you
will make mountains one day
nature is at work inside of us
in light and love,
keep your head up.
Sunday, August 5, 2012
storm's a brewin'
tonight in brooklyn, something other-worldly happened: i heard thunder and saw lightning. it truly struck me as something bizarre and almost frightening because this city is so loud, so thunderous already that nature just seems like such an extreme against the intense urban-ness. any real, spontaneous life, anything volatile from the earth is just extra what you're used to. so with that, here's some of my poetry...which may come across as just extra what you're used to... sometimes i want to lick your face just
to show you how sweet you are...
or tuck you under my arm like a
blanket, trailing silently
behind me.
i trust you like a brother
and i want to fuck you like a train wreck,
hard, loud, run it off the rails
till something makes us stop.
the air between us is so thick
you could almost choke on it
and sometimes i wish you would
so i could tear down the dark walls
between us and set fire to the
misidentified luggage you brought home.
there's a delicacy in your gloved tongue,
it keeps things long and elegant,
covered, so that even when you grab your
audience by the throat and squeeze, no evidence
is left behind.
but i can smell it on your breath: undigestible
meaning.
your touch feels like a broken promise
from all that fear
eating through the foundation
of our hell-bent love for one another,
grown outta summer sweat and
shadowy exchanges.
still there's something unbroached, unconsummated,
and i hang on the edge
of it like a cliff-jumper holding my breath in vain.
the most romantic thing you said
was i wish we could have breakfast, or
at least fuck again...
before you dropped me off for tomorrow,
turned around and drove to her
mentioning something vague about...
it's far-fetched, i know, that i
could breathe the life back into you,
resuscitate your hollowed-out heart
in time.
but if you'd just open your mouth
for me instead of all this
tight-lipped strategy
let the earth come up to meet you instead
of buckling in the
hard suck of gravity,
we could just be
for each other
like mac and cheese.
i'd rather sip on bittersweet bravery than
choke on a burnt chunk of good-bye.
now it's all polite and nice nice inside
the walls are dripping with
little pink bits of meat still pounding
in synchronistic time.
are you hungry?
the beast that gets blown apart at least
deserves the courtesy of becoming dinner.
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
yoga and life and stuff...and lots of italics for emphasis
between the yoga classes and countless miles walked since
saturday, my body and brain are fertile ground right now for thoughts, fears,
emotions, pain, worry to all come shooting through the surface like the first
day of spring. the discomfort
level brought on by moving to a new place has heightened my awareness around
balance and what that looks like for me in my life, as it is.
particularly in yoga, when we talk about balance, there's a
lot of this "masculine/feminine, light/dark, body/spirit" talk, but
as regular ol' humans, sometimes i think that that particular kind of languaging gets lost
on our ears and we still feel "bad" about fear and sadness and loneliness as very real aspects of ourselves. or is that just me?
this all started in a class the other day when, after
juicing up with lots of twists, in the middle of practicing side crow (not easy or comfortable), the
instructor said, "so, you do the steps to set it up and you breathe, and
some days you can do it and some days you can't." and i laughed out loud because that is
exactly the way i've been feeling about my life recently. some days, most days, i'm capable of huge
amounts of love and lightness, and some days i'm not. some days i'm patient, some days i'm pessimistic, and some
days i'm angry. usually, just for
a spell, though, and that’s what has to
be remarked on: we're constantly in flux, and it's uncomfortable. it's kind of annoying, actually.
there are these hemispheres of love and hate and light and
dark, logic and intuition, cleanliness and sloth, trust and confusion which
constantly rotate around the axis of our consciousness and come in and out of
the light, our awareness. we don't question the earth moving from day to night (although i am guilty of cursing the sun for rising on a perfectly beautiful night on occasion...), and our own passage from light to dark is just as natural, just as relentless, equally beyond our control.
the next day, i took another class which brought it all down, right here, to the ground level. the instructor said over and over
again, "sit well, align
yourself so that we can do good work here, we are practicing techniques so that we might live well." the practice became so pure with that instruction. what's so often lost in yoga
is the intention behind it. i'm not practicing handstand so that
when i get cut off in traffic i can pull over and do a handstand to prove how
patient and strong-willed i am.
warrior II is totally irrelevant when it comes to being a good
person. i practice these postures
to be strong and free in my physical space, so that what flows through me is
pure, and not low blood sugar-induced hissy fits or clogged arteries or kidney stones.
the practice of yoga asana (postures) is difficult as a training tool for life. just yesterday, as i was recounting my
story of moving to a friend, describing my experience as
"uncomfortable," she so gently reminded me that we could all use a
little more time being uncomfortable.
and she didn't mean walking around on a sprained ankle or eating cookie
dough three meals a day, but the kind of uncomfortable that causes a shift in
awareness, uncomfortable in the interest of growth, not self-punishment. uncomfortable, like holding a pose for seven or eight extra
breaths. uncomfortable, like going
somewhere completely new for the first time and making new friends. uncomfortable, like loving someone
impossibly and hopefully over more miles than seems fair or reasonable. uncomfortable, like allowing change to
take the time that it takes.
in finding our "balance," or pushing into those
spaces that bring up discomfort, we arm ourselves against the unexpected,
fortifying our hearts to live this very brutal life of a human being. like the rugged and raw landscape
chögyam trungpa rinpoche describes in his "eternal ground," we are as
the earth: violent and life-giving and beautiful, constantly dying and constantly
giving birth. our work is not to
stop that process, but to participate in
it. pema chödrön talks about the
peace that’s found in accepting our humanness, and when discomfort arises, we
don’t push it away, we look at it
as a means, “of ventilating it, of loosening the tension around it, of becoming
aware of the space in which the discomfort is occurring.”
by holding ourselves up to the light with no expectations,
we can just do the work instead of judging and wondering why we’re not perfect. if you were perfect, there’d be no
point in you being here. as humans,
our aim cannot be to make ourselves perfect- we already are, that is our essence: pure potential. it has nothing to do with capability or
physical beauty or intellect, but rather, i believe, with vulnerability,
persistence and love. when
we practice intentionally, with the aim of keeping focused on our individual
balance, we nourish the collective.
through generosity in your work, by focusing on your own healing, you make it possible for others
to heal. it
is damaging and cruel to think that any of us is a lost cause. practice for yourself, practice for
your loved ones, practice for strangers, practice for people you think you know
and let them surprise you.
so, live well; not accidentally, not apologetically, not in
secret. there is nothing we can't rectify if we
choose to. don't give up.
*special thanks to bryn chrisman (http://yogamayanewyork.com/?p=282) and carla stangenberg (http://jayayogacenter.com/about-us/teachers/carla) for the inspiration and support.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
re-root
first day in my new city called brooklyn
figuring out how to get breakfast coffee groceries not lost reading street signs dodging cyclists meandering through marketplaces bookstores delis construction zones
everything's heightened, exaggerated
figuring out what leads to what turns into where leads me north east south west
i pass legendary familiar ordinary and lovely sites
i love a man laying prostrate on the steps of a church, unencumbered by legs, bringing him to rest that much closer against his God, sleep
slipping into a familiar bookstore for enclosure
out of nowhere my purse goes off- like, an alarm in my purse goes off
i'm receiving an emergency weather alert text message on my phone
this has never happened before so i don't recognize the sound or realize it's even me until everyone in the shop turns to look at me as though i were the disaster they were being warned about....i smile....pay for my picture postcards...scurry out the door...
just in case i had started to feel at ease
i walked past the same car wash four times today, and every time the men stared like they weren't staring, having perfected this particularly male kind of multitasking
i understand you, i think to myself, and smirk as i imagine their surprise when i talk back, "dime lo que quieras..."
outside my windows the city moves and breathes along deep grooves of rhythm and blues
and i breathe in time
holding sometimes to take it in deeper
and to feel the spaciousness given me from miles and miles away
"sad" is too small
"afraid" is staring me in the face
i'm simply overwhelmed by love
my body trembles under its weight, stretches around its size, and moves tirelessly at its urging
figuring out how to get breakfast coffee groceries not lost reading street signs dodging cyclists meandering through marketplaces bookstores delis construction zoneseverything's heightened, exaggerated
figuring out what leads to what turns into where leads me north east south west
i pass legendary familiar ordinary and lovely sites
i love a man laying prostrate on the steps of a church, unencumbered by legs, bringing him to rest that much closer against his God, sleep
slipping into a familiar bookstore for enclosure
out of nowhere my purse goes off- like, an alarm in my purse goes off
i'm receiving an emergency weather alert text message on my phone
this has never happened before so i don't recognize the sound or realize it's even me until everyone in the shop turns to look at me as though i were the disaster they were being warned about....i smile....pay for my picture postcards...scurry out the door...
just in case i had started to feel at ease
i walked past the same car wash four times today, and every time the men stared like they weren't staring, having perfected this particularly male kind of multitasking
i understand you, i think to myself, and smirk as i imagine their surprise when i talk back, "dime lo que quieras..."
outside my windows the city moves and breathes along deep grooves of rhythm and blues
and i breathe in time
holding sometimes to take it in deeper
and to feel the spaciousness given me from miles and miles away
"sad" is too small
"afraid" is staring me in the face
i'm simply overwhelmed by love
my body trembles under its weight, stretches around its size, and moves tirelessly at its urging
Sunday, April 4, 2010
mysterious universe
this is an old post that i started and never finished....until today....
a new series began on NPR called "the hidden world of girls." it documents stories about "girls and the women they become," female rituals and rights of passage, and unlikely traditions around the world.
i was inspired by the perfectly phrased thesis of one reporter: "one thing we noticed, if you're delving into the lives of women and girls, you can't help but enter into the mysterious universe of their bodies..."
the lives and rituals of girls and women fascinate...the daily ritual of cleaning our pores, plucking our eyebrows, picking out the best bits of granola from the bowl, the 8-octave range of laughter when we gather in groups...
the phrase "mysterious universe" instantly ignited in me two things: my own awe and adoration of the physical body in motion, and the tremendous pressure put on women to look a certain way to be considered "attractive" in our society; the obsession with physical standards put on a form that is so varied and powerful and designed to break boundaries. creating a collective belief that all bodies must adhere to one aesthetic goes against nature. okay, this is not new information. but women are still prey to it's grip on our minds and behavior. women are still fighting themselves and killing their spirits in order to fit into a trendy new look. or, in order to feel accepted in the world. which is what this comes down to. women's day may confuse some people- why do women need a whole day? women are powerful. yes. beyond measure. but we are not accepted completely. our bodies are not celebrated- not as they are, but as someone, somewhere decided they "should" be because it's more aesthetically appealing on camera. i'm going to put out there that 99% of women have/have had some form of an eating disorder. in my opinion, obsessive calorie counting is an eating disorder. it is absolutely true that counting calories can help people get healthier. physically. mentally and emotionally, i believe it is self-destructive. my opinions are based on my experience- what i have gone through myself and what i have witnessed in others.
i think it is a right of passage, unfortunately, to go through a period of disconnection to one's physical self. as a woman, coming in to one's own with a body as capable and powerful as the female body, "women who swell with the tide, women who change when the wind blows, show us we are connected to everything, show us we are not separate from everything." naturally the passage would be fraught with mistrust, misunderstandings and discomfort. i personally spent days gripping onto my inner thighs, staring into the mirror in horror at what i saw. i pulled back the flesh on my legs to see, just for a moment, how it would look, to feel what it would be like, to be 'pretty.' i don't know where this started or came from, i just know that i was living in a body i didn't understand.
over one summer in high school, i dropped from approximately 123lbs. to 102lbs. at 5'4" i was underweight. every thought i had was about food- i had my food down to a science and any deviation threw me into pure panic. i never felt nourished, i never felt satisfied, i just felt i had control over something. i was light and it felt good to hear people tell me i was "little." but i was dying. i had no emotional strength and i was disconnected from the world around me. hell, my hair was falling out. when i look back at that time, i was 100% lost in my neuroses, and never in my body. the result was a shell with a smile that i showed the world. the worst part about that time, in addition to the obscene mood swings, is that i have so few memories. i remember so little about the time i spent with friends and the things i did because i was never present in a single moment.
as is often the case, the weight started to come on. slowly at first, and then with a vengeance. i turned a corner and went from one extreme to the other, eating to fill this well i had created in myself. there were times when i could not stop and i made myself physically ill. there were times when i just ate with the intention of purging later. now eating brought me into my body, but i was even more uncomfortable than before.
with time, only time, and a deep knowing inside that i was living at the mercy of a lie so pervasive it has generated a billion dollar industry, i began to live inside my body- as it was. i was heavy now. unrecognizable when compared to images of my "former" self. but i was learning to accept that, to move on in spite of being uncomfortable and insecure. i not only felt a shift into a different physical space, but mental and emotional space as well. i had depth again. i was becoming whole, although still incomplete.
i found ways to express myself physically that felt joyful. i dove into my yoga practice. i started dancing again. getting back in front of a mirror and putting on tights with 40 more pounds than i had before was shitty, to say the least. but, really, there are worse things in life. i had legs and the desire to move and nothing was going to make me feel bad about that. with my weight, i felt i was in a cocoon so that i could emerge, at some point in the future, my Self. at least, that's how it made sense in my head. it was a lot easier to deal with that than to get up every day and say, "i'm fat and ugly." that method doesn't work if you hope to keep your spirit in tact.
it must be said that i am in no way disparaging exercise or eating right or becoming more mindful of what you put in your body. what i am saying is that everyone deserves to feel at home and loved inside their own space. and as a very wise woman said, we only have dominion over our own bodies. women naturally feel and sense more physically, and that is why this article is addressed to women. if women's bodies weren't so powerful and misunderstood, then how did female genital mutilation come to be? who invented breast implants? and vaginal reconstruction? who put the idea in our heads that after pregnancy and giving birth, a woman's body is "destroyed?" by diminishing and objectifying the female form, we diminish and confuse the woman's role in society. it is in our vulnerability that we have power. i can take into myself and create out of myself. i am soft and it feels good to rest against me. for someone seeking world domination, you can see how dangerous it might feel to really engage emotionally with that power- the power of letting go and receiving and connecting to nature. who's in charge? no one. all of us. it's not for you to know.
women take in the world around them and process it through an inherently sexual filter- their bodies. we give birth, which is, like it or not, the result of having sex. which is, if you're lucky enough to be with someone with whom you share trust and respect, utterly pleasurable. pleasure is part of the life-creating process. women feel, and we give life and we give love, and that is what makes the world go 'round. of course, that is not one-sided. women give, and are happy to give with a little understanding and respect. in order to bring the world into balance, men and women have to accept each other, as we are, and move forward with the intention of growing our consciousness to really view each other as equal. so women become vindicated for their inherent sexuality, and as punishment become "sexualized" and stereotyped. what i experience as sexual does not require me to wear stilettos and leather and purse my lips to express myself. at least, not all the time. the problem is the "stickiness" of that image, the grip it has in the psyche of our society as the apex of sexuality, and even what it is to be a woman. how about the sexiness of menstruation? what's not sexy about a woman moving with the tides of the earth, pulled in time with the moon, generating fertile ground to create life? if we gave ourselves the time and space to ride the waves of emotion and physical discomfort, PMS wouldn't be an ugly word or an ugly reality. it wouldn't exist.
in my current body, the excess has been shed and what's left continues to surprise me in it's effect on people, even myself. i don't have a perfect body, but i have a body you can hold on to. i have a body that's real. i have a body that's round. and i think the sexiest thing about my body is that it's MINE; i know it inside and out and it loves to move, it loves contact, it loves feeling.
i starved myself of my life for so long because i didn't feel like being me was ok. i buried myself in food for so long because i knew what "they" wanted wasn't possible. i wasted so much time not loving myself because, no matter how many times i heard the opposite, the world out there does everything to make you believe that what YOU think about YOURSELF doesn't matter.
what is healthy? what is beautiful? what is any of it?
your body is not a temple, your body is your home, your nest, your refuge. take care of that. spend as much time on the living room and the bedroom and the kitchen as you do on the facade. because really, no matter how good a house looks on the outside, if you walk in and there is garbage on the floor and one lone folding chair in the corner, you'll never want to be there. take care of yourself, and praise the beautiful being you are.
http://www.npr.org/templates/player/mediaPlayer.html?action=1&t=1&islist=false&id=124122126&m=125006017
a new series began on NPR called "the hidden world of girls." it documents stories about "girls and the women they become," female rituals and rights of passage, and unlikely traditions around the world.
i was inspired by the perfectly phrased thesis of one reporter: "one thing we noticed, if you're delving into the lives of women and girls, you can't help but enter into the mysterious universe of their bodies..."
the lives and rituals of girls and women fascinate...the daily ritual of cleaning our pores, plucking our eyebrows, picking out the best bits of granola from the bowl, the 8-octave range of laughter when we gather in groups...
the phrase "mysterious universe" instantly ignited in me two things: my own awe and adoration of the physical body in motion, and the tremendous pressure put on women to look a certain way to be considered "attractive" in our society; the obsession with physical standards put on a form that is so varied and powerful and designed to break boundaries. creating a collective belief that all bodies must adhere to one aesthetic goes against nature. okay, this is not new information. but women are still prey to it's grip on our minds and behavior. women are still fighting themselves and killing their spirits in order to fit into a trendy new look. or, in order to feel accepted in the world. which is what this comes down to. women's day may confuse some people- why do women need a whole day? women are powerful. yes. beyond measure. but we are not accepted completely. our bodies are not celebrated- not as they are, but as someone, somewhere decided they "should" be because it's more aesthetically appealing on camera. i'm going to put out there that 99% of women have/have had some form of an eating disorder. in my opinion, obsessive calorie counting is an eating disorder. it is absolutely true that counting calories can help people get healthier. physically. mentally and emotionally, i believe it is self-destructive. my opinions are based on my experience- what i have gone through myself and what i have witnessed in others.
i think it is a right of passage, unfortunately, to go through a period of disconnection to one's physical self. as a woman, coming in to one's own with a body as capable and powerful as the female body, "women who swell with the tide, women who change when the wind blows, show us we are connected to everything, show us we are not separate from everything." naturally the passage would be fraught with mistrust, misunderstandings and discomfort. i personally spent days gripping onto my inner thighs, staring into the mirror in horror at what i saw. i pulled back the flesh on my legs to see, just for a moment, how it would look, to feel what it would be like, to be 'pretty.' i don't know where this started or came from, i just know that i was living in a body i didn't understand.
over one summer in high school, i dropped from approximately 123lbs. to 102lbs. at 5'4" i was underweight. every thought i had was about food- i had my food down to a science and any deviation threw me into pure panic. i never felt nourished, i never felt satisfied, i just felt i had control over something. i was light and it felt good to hear people tell me i was "little." but i was dying. i had no emotional strength and i was disconnected from the world around me. hell, my hair was falling out. when i look back at that time, i was 100% lost in my neuroses, and never in my body. the result was a shell with a smile that i showed the world. the worst part about that time, in addition to the obscene mood swings, is that i have so few memories. i remember so little about the time i spent with friends and the things i did because i was never present in a single moment.
as is often the case, the weight started to come on. slowly at first, and then with a vengeance. i turned a corner and went from one extreme to the other, eating to fill this well i had created in myself. there were times when i could not stop and i made myself physically ill. there were times when i just ate with the intention of purging later. now eating brought me into my body, but i was even more uncomfortable than before.
with time, only time, and a deep knowing inside that i was living at the mercy of a lie so pervasive it has generated a billion dollar industry, i began to live inside my body- as it was. i was heavy now. unrecognizable when compared to images of my "former" self. but i was learning to accept that, to move on in spite of being uncomfortable and insecure. i not only felt a shift into a different physical space, but mental and emotional space as well. i had depth again. i was becoming whole, although still incomplete.
i found ways to express myself physically that felt joyful. i dove into my yoga practice. i started dancing again. getting back in front of a mirror and putting on tights with 40 more pounds than i had before was shitty, to say the least. but, really, there are worse things in life. i had legs and the desire to move and nothing was going to make me feel bad about that. with my weight, i felt i was in a cocoon so that i could emerge, at some point in the future, my Self. at least, that's how it made sense in my head. it was a lot easier to deal with that than to get up every day and say, "i'm fat and ugly." that method doesn't work if you hope to keep your spirit in tact.
it must be said that i am in no way disparaging exercise or eating right or becoming more mindful of what you put in your body. what i am saying is that everyone deserves to feel at home and loved inside their own space. and as a very wise woman said, we only have dominion over our own bodies. women naturally feel and sense more physically, and that is why this article is addressed to women. if women's bodies weren't so powerful and misunderstood, then how did female genital mutilation come to be? who invented breast implants? and vaginal reconstruction? who put the idea in our heads that after pregnancy and giving birth, a woman's body is "destroyed?" by diminishing and objectifying the female form, we diminish and confuse the woman's role in society. it is in our vulnerability that we have power. i can take into myself and create out of myself. i am soft and it feels good to rest against me. for someone seeking world domination, you can see how dangerous it might feel to really engage emotionally with that power- the power of letting go and receiving and connecting to nature. who's in charge? no one. all of us. it's not for you to know.
women take in the world around them and process it through an inherently sexual filter- their bodies. we give birth, which is, like it or not, the result of having sex. which is, if you're lucky enough to be with someone with whom you share trust and respect, utterly pleasurable. pleasure is part of the life-creating process. women feel, and we give life and we give love, and that is what makes the world go 'round. of course, that is not one-sided. women give, and are happy to give with a little understanding and respect. in order to bring the world into balance, men and women have to accept each other, as we are, and move forward with the intention of growing our consciousness to really view each other as equal. so women become vindicated for their inherent sexuality, and as punishment become "sexualized" and stereotyped. what i experience as sexual does not require me to wear stilettos and leather and purse my lips to express myself. at least, not all the time. the problem is the "stickiness" of that image, the grip it has in the psyche of our society as the apex of sexuality, and even what it is to be a woman. how about the sexiness of menstruation? what's not sexy about a woman moving with the tides of the earth, pulled in time with the moon, generating fertile ground to create life? if we gave ourselves the time and space to ride the waves of emotion and physical discomfort, PMS wouldn't be an ugly word or an ugly reality. it wouldn't exist.
in my current body, the excess has been shed and what's left continues to surprise me in it's effect on people, even myself. i don't have a perfect body, but i have a body you can hold on to. i have a body that's real. i have a body that's round. and i think the sexiest thing about my body is that it's MINE; i know it inside and out and it loves to move, it loves contact, it loves feeling.
i starved myself of my life for so long because i didn't feel like being me was ok. i buried myself in food for so long because i knew what "they" wanted wasn't possible. i wasted so much time not loving myself because, no matter how many times i heard the opposite, the world out there does everything to make you believe that what YOU think about YOURSELF doesn't matter.
what is healthy? what is beautiful? what is any of it?
your body is not a temple, your body is your home, your nest, your refuge. take care of that. spend as much time on the living room and the bedroom and the kitchen as you do on the facade. because really, no matter how good a house looks on the outside, if you walk in and there is garbage on the floor and one lone folding chair in the corner, you'll never want to be there. take care of yourself, and praise the beautiful being you are.
http://www.npr.org/templates/player/mediaPlayer.html?action=1&t=1&islist=false&id=124122126&m=125006017
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