dear body

Last week I wrote a letter to my body.
In it I offered thanks for everything it has done and does for me.
I’m trying to do that more; to really celebrate myself in all my muscle, skin and bone form.
There’s a lot to be grateful for.
My body allows me to dance, touch, see, run, hold, be held, play, sing and laugh.
Without it I am not here.
The inclination to celebrate my body hasn't aways been there, I know i'm not alone in this.  
Finding yoga in my early 20’s was a turning point in my relationship with my body, I owe it a lot.
The act of moving and breathing mindfully knitted me back in my body and gave me a sense of home and empowerment in my skin.

I felt a closeness to myself that I hadn't felt before. 
I don’t however live a 24/7 embodied existence.
Old habits die hard and still the little voice that tells me I am too much of this and not enough of that likes to have its say.  
The difference is that I now know where it comes from. Not from a place deep inside of me, from a place of truth, but rather from outside.
It comes from a very two dimensional understanding that there is one kind of beauty, a perfect shape, skin tone and height that we should all be aiming for, and that if we don’t meet that specific criteria then we don’t have the right to rejoice in our bodies. 
Seeing that voice for what it is makes me determined to repair the damage it has caused.
The letter to my body is two fingers up to an opinion I no longer want to be influenced by.
I feel a rebellion in my bones, of my bones.
To know my glory, to be in full knowledge of my bodily wonder.
I realise it won’t be plane sailing but I’m ready to crew the vessel with all my strength.
Because I don’t want to only be able to love my body when I’m young and well, like that voice tells me.
I want to love it when it’s injured, old, tired and ill, because these aren’t states of failure, they’re a part of the picture, the natural way of things.  
The roots for this unconditional love are fertilised with compassion.
By staying tuned in to when I need rest and less sugar, honouring the need for movement and play, recognising when to do more and when to do less, acknowledging that my body is only mine and always, always celebrating it’s daily service.