This afternoon offered the first good, long workout I’ve had
in over ten days. I remember days when those words could not exist in the same
sentence—good, long, workout—but we are in a different season, for now. Perhaps
from now on. My mind began to release its form as muscles flexed and eased,
contracted and relaxed. I began to remember the awareness that comes when I
listen first with my physique, second with my profession. I don’t think I have
used the word physique either, in
those days gone by. So what made it good?
I’ve learned to trust my body more than I used to, for one.
It’s good to move, enjoying an active
and different relationship with the world than any idea I have of it at a given
time. There’s an inimitable reality about being in the world—it is what it is,
no more, no less. Sometimes, in this trust, I see body parts that seem new to
me, though they’re just as old as the rest of me. My hips, for one. My mother
told me when I was 12 that I had child-bearing hips, which was meant to ease my
adolescent angst. I’ve felt ambiguous about them ever since. Did she mean
‘large for a purpose’ or ‘maternal’ or what? Today, I eased around the track,
confident in my stride and appreciative of how these hips have borne me along
the world’s ways. Sturdy, strong, even gracefully curvy. Or there’s my belly.
My belly has been the source of some of the most stringently critical voices
I’ve mustered within my head. “Could stand to lose a few pounds, couldn’t you?”
this whiny voice would accuse. “How blubbery!” said another version of voice,
with a mean-streak. Today, I remember how my belly holds estrogen to make my
bones strong, how it complements my form with an image of ease and nurture.
True, the anorexic, boyish models of fashion today would starve for days to rid
themselves of this beautiful belly, but that is neither their fault nor mine.
I’m more at peace with my belly than I’ve been in years. Perhaps ever. Part of
me startles to realize that my body knows its way around this world better than
what I’ve learned or used to think about the world.
It was also good because it came at the end of a spacious
day, meeting women of interesting purpose and inquiry. One woman sipped her
large coffee while telling me of her youth in isolated, German-Lutheran
Nebraska ‘back in the day.’ She seemed embarrassed that she didn’t have a
classmate outside the family until 3rd grade in their one room
schoolhouse. “Those TV shows you know? Forget about it,” she said quietly. We
were to lead another group of women in a program-meeting, ostensibly “to get to
know each other,” though she and I are really the only new ones. This quiet
woman seemed to discount every beautiful thing about herself. How terrified she
must have been to speak in public, about herself. The other woman I met for tea
is of similar generation but vastly different spirit. This one has seen some
things then smacked them back down again, with grace but severity. She knows
who she is, though she struggles with anger when others—particularly men in
authority—fail to see her, even dismiss who she is.
The day appeared a bookend of contrasts, to be offered up in
a relaxing run of thanksgiving. A good workout of the bookends in me, I
suppose—the little one who felt isolated and discounted her own beauty; the
older one who has seen a bit of the world, enough to know that sometimes you
have to strong-arm your way back to visibility, even if just for yourself.
Finally, it was a good workout because it opened new
energies in me for what I do, how I see, who I’m connected with. I walked through
the kitchen door, appreciative of the new countertops and the newly cleaned
grouted-tiles and carpets. I made some strong ginger tea, the kind that Carrie
Newcomer believes in, and wrote a letter I had been nudged to write. I drove to
the post-office in the dusk of the evening, enjoying the silence and open-air
breezing in through the open windows. I was reminded that my work is changing
but as it is, it’s still really good work. A long hot shower eased the muscles
that had reawakened gratitude, and I ended the day in comfy sweats and a
favorite t-shirt.
Today offered the first good, long workout I’ve had in over
ten days. May the next ten days be only one or two.
