"I feel an urgency to get comfortable in my body.”

This phrase was in one of the earlier pieces Christian did for our collaboration for the 100 Day Project. As I read it through the first time, I was struck, that at the age of 48, I am just now learning how to get comfortable in my body. 

This month Tony and I are talking about movement - specifically about moving our bodies in the midst of the paralyzation of COVID. I referenced the back issues I have been struggling with this year on our last podcast and as they seem to dominate my days, I feel compelled to explore this idea of accepting and being present in one’s body… in whatever state it’s in. 

I have been blessed in my life to be tall and thin and reasonably athletic without a huge effort. Barring a few ACL surgeries on my knees, I have a body that works remarkably well. The health challenges I’ve encountered have been fairly insignificant considering the incredible complexity of the human body and all the intricate systems that give us the ability to move, eat, digest, and well… just breathe in and out without even thinking about it.

In the last year, two things have happened that have made me think more about my body and the skin I wear. First, I have started to see my age for the first time. I mean really see it - age spots on my hands and arms, the lines in my face just under my cheekbones where the elasticity has disappeared and a belly that thickens as peri-menopause taunts me. I, like most humans, have been dissatisfied with my body for most of my life and have always found something to criticize or hide, even on the best of days. Now, I feel acutely the loss of the years I have wasted manufacturing flaws rather than embracing the incredible vitality of my youth.

Secondly, I have body issues that just won’t heal. The back pain that usually only needed a quick chiropractic adjustment before my next hike has now lasted almost four months and is clinging to me like the memory of a bad nightmare I can’t seem to wake up from. The SI joint pain that I’m experiencing is not a new or unexpected pain, but the duration and my inability to get better has surprised and derailed me. If you’ve never had intense back pain before, stop for a moment and celebrate. You get to bend over, sit down, and put on your pants without pain. I don’t think I’ll ever take it for granted again.

As I struggle with the loss of things I have always held so lightly and thoughtlessly, I go back to the line that Christian wrote.

"I feel an urgency to get comfortable in my body.”

Am I comfortable in my body?  Do I care for it and listen to it and honor it and thank it for performing feats of wonder for me every day?

No. 

I freak out when a small part of it doesn’t work, and shame it when it doesn’t visually measure up to ridiculous expectations formed by a culture that wants me to consume to swallow the shame they create. As my body shape-shifts as my hormones transition, I feel the urge to fight my body and, at the same time, feel the deep gut tugging need to embrace what is.

My body is as young as it will ever be. This is true every day of our lives, but I didn’t seem to know it until I felt the weight of gravity pulling on my aging skin and bones; pulling me all the way down until my face on the ground… humbled and awed at the same time.

I have been re-reading Barbara Brown Taylor’s gorgeous book ’An Altar in the World.’ I love this section from the chapter entitled: The Practice of Wearing Skin-

“I think it is important to pray naked in front of a full-length mirror sometimes, especially when you are full of loathing for your body. Maybe you think you are too heavy. Maybe you never liked the way your hipbones stick out. Do your breasts sag? Are you too hairy? It is always something. Then again, maybe you have been sick, or gone through surgery that has changed the way you look. Too many of us stay covered up or even bathe in the dark…This can only go on so long, especially for someone who believes that God loves flesh and blood, no matter what kind of shape it is in. Whether you are sick or well, lovely or irregular, there comes a time when it is vitally important for your spiritual health to drop your clothes, look in the mirror and say, ‘Here I am’. This is the body-like-no-other that my life has shaped. I live here. This is my soul’s address.”

Every morning for the past 5 weeks, I pull out my yoga mat. I stretch my back slowly with my knees tucked under me in child’s pose. I lay on my back and slowly rotate my bent legs with my hands on my knees to stretch and strengthen the angry and atrophied muscles around my spine. I do the simplest of exercises to ‘strengthen my core’ - a phrase I never heard for the first twenty-five years of my life but which now is the refrain that repeats ad nauseam in my head as I crawl my way back to health. These morning exercises and slow, careful walks through my neighborhood are my current way of moving. It is all I can do and when I have a day without pain, I rejoice.

“Here I am. This is my soul’s address.”

Can I finally get comfortable in my skin? Even with the pain? Even with the age spots and wrinkles? Even with my face on the ground? Perhaps it is actually because my face is on the ground that I will truly start to try.