You carry it all dear body.
The joy, the sorrow, the fear, love, loss, and ecstasy. Sometimes they pass through you. Sometimes I force you to hold on.
I ask for a storage system while I stay busy, fascinated with the constructs of my mind.
When finally you said, ‘No more. I can hold no more,’ I yelled at you. I cried to you. I begged you to keep going.
I knew nothing of how to be with you. In stillness. In silence.
I knew nothing of how to nurture you. To be kind. To honour you.
You waited patiently as I took my first tentative steps. Familiarising myself with you. An entity unknown to me despite owing you my life.
Slowly I extracted myself from my mental absorption and learned to speak your language. To recognise and hear it.
I glimpsed the depth of your wisdom. I saw you as the sacred vessel in which all experience is contained.
My memories, my hurts and triumphs. My loves, my sadness.
You are the witness. You hold me in your cells.
All of me.
Well beyond this individual self, you hold past lives, collective consciousness, the journey of the divine from the moment of its unfolding.
Your story is one of deep longing.
Longing to be free. Free from torture, rape, mutilation.
Longing to be seen as more than an image, a pretty picture, an other.
Longing to be heard, to speak without fear of retribution.
It’s also one of celebration. Of exquisite beauty. Of forgiveness.
You teach us to receive, to soften, to allow. You teach us the power of releasing, of letting go.
You teach us creativity in its purest form – as the source from which all arises and to which all returns.
You are the story of Gaia, of Shakti, of Mother Earth.
You are daughter, sister, aunt, wife, lover. You are the ever present teacher who never forces or demands, but who stands as a firm and clear reflection of truth.
Body, my guru.