A few months before she died, my sister wrote in her journal about her 'mischievous' body. She was, until that time, very firmly ensconced in it, and it had served her well. She was a deliciously noisy presence, and had a way of winning over most people who entered her life with her generous and honest ebullience. Her body was her trusty vehicle, always, until inexplicably at 55, it started playing up. Serious mischief.
I'm thinking about this because my body is reminding me of its independent status – I hesitate to call the alteration mischievous; I prefer to think of it that the score is subtly altered, and for reasons beyond my ken or control, new notes are sounding. I’m reminded that this multi-trillion celled organism (thank you Raymond) truly is a miracle. It is me and it is not me. With all the focused will in the world, I’m unable to direct the orchestra.
I’m not talking cacophony here, just some bum notes… but I’m interested to note and name some of my responses. First reaction: mad with my body. Grrrowlll. How dare you! Then, on the weekend, tenderness. A desire to talk softly to her. To take her in my arms and treat her with loving kindness. Dissonance is teaching me some things.
Yes, what a moving post, pmx. It's time to be good to our poor bodies that we take so for granted all our lives, and become impatient with the vagaries and stiffenings and decline. How dare, indeed! Tenderness, forgiveness, acceptance toward the self and the self's vessel--a fine and wise recipe, which I will try to remember on this rainy morning. xo vsn
ReplyDeleteI have long held a strong belief in the mind-body-spirit connection - there is no way that past events are not now manifest in the body. And, of course, we do age. But assuming our bodies communicate in the only language they posses, tenderness and attention may coax them to speak more plainly. Best of all, I believe they always tell the truth. xo
ReplyDeleteThe sound of silence is the one we usually want, but sometimes we've got to listen to new sounds. All the best for your listening Pam.
ReplyDeleteHello to you vsm over there in your nest from me in mine. Add to that 'recipe' a blazing fire and a soft tufty maroon rug - feels right now like a very good ingredient for the bowl. So much we don't seem to have the power to change or influence, yet always some things that we do (like choosing to laze by the fire on a grey dunedin day...)
ReplyDeleteYes, that's a comfort and a wake-up call Marylinn: that my body is telling the truth, and can do none other. There's something oddly settling in there. What I resist and at times wrestle with is the notion that we are responsible for every ripple in our own pathology, and able to right it with optimal attitude/spirit. Not sure what you think about this ... (but would be interested to hear.) Meanwhile, I love the idea of inviting plain-talk from my body to me. I'm (slowly) getting better at listening!
ReplyDeleteThanks JB. Makes me think - is there any such thing as a scary sound? Perhaps all of them have their place / make sense in the end.
ReplyDeletePam, Assuming responsibility for every ripple in our own pathology would require us to have been, each moment of our pre- and post-natal lives, fully conscious, making conscious choices, at times willingly and knowingly electing to be harmed. And I will never believe that. My own example, as I define it, involves a collection of physical, perhaps emotional, frailties yet an unexpected, powerfully resilient spirit. Life alters us. I see myself as a mutant, certainly a creature who has had to adapt in unfavorable conditions. But I think that is true for many or most of us. The image comes of needing to turn the car around on a narrow and perilous (dirt) road, the cautious backing and filing, keeping the wheels from slipping over the edge while repositioning ourselves to be headed, at last, in a benevolent direction. I trust there is restoration of a sort and that we are somehow led to it. I spent so long thinking I could build the answers by "getting it right." For myself, surrender and faith seem the best, or only, options. Heart-centered life and all its companions...forgiveness, patience, compassion, gratitude, gifts of enlightenment and the willingness to see a bigger picture...I bet on these with enormous hope. The missing keys are always in the last place we look. I welcome further discussion...this exploration has become my life. xo
ReplyDelete(A comment from Penelope whose comments aren't 'taking' from her google account...)
ReplyDeleteAh, you big, wise women (and man); I've just had a deep bath in your comments and go on warmed and fortified, with my aches wrapped in a soft towel.
Marylinn, Your exploration has yielded riches. Thanks for your thoughtful post, with all of the wisdom it contains. What a cup of life this is - if I can choose so small a metaphor. A spirit that has quintessential resilience - even though that truth is not always in reach - along with a bunch of frailties. I sometimes think those frailties, along with the life story they attract, are perfectly shaped for own journey. It is they (them?) that make us whole, perhaps.
ReplyDeleteI like your picture of doing that 17 point turn on the narrow dirt road of life to turn ourselves towards benevolence. Perhaps this is all we can do in the end. And even that has its challenges.
Talking to friends the other day, we spoke about the notion of choosing to live well. It seems this is absolutely within our reach, regardless of what might be taking place under our skin, or on the outside. I love the multiple nuances of 'well' ... healthy to the core ... better than good... bang smack on top of the life source well spring. px
Pen, what a delicious place to be. I'm so glad you experienced such luscious comfort here in this gathering. Thanks for being (a luscious) part of that. px
ReplyDeletePam, If you find this, just checking in to say hello, see if we have any philosophical questions to ponder. Wishing you well, Marylinn
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