Yesterday I felt the spring equinox in my body. This doesn’t always happen, but more so as these days in the van roll through me. I’m trying to shape without shaping, push-then-release, open my heart to my Self.
I’ve spent this past time telling my body that I love her, that she is special to me, that I’m sorry for all the times I treated her like an emotional dumping ground.
Yesterday that disconnect ended – there was no ‘me’ talking to ‘my body’, there is now just this whole Self. What a beautiful thing that is to write. And yet it’s taken forty-five years to be able to say it with confidence.
As we rode our bikes slow and meandering through the woodland I breathed out hard and long, expelling all the stale winter air that had built up, then sucked in long glorious breaths of fresh spring air.
I was going to write ‘my body knows what she needs’ but that is no longer true. I know what I need.
When we stopped, I counted sixty-five rings in this tree. What are we that we give ourselves the authority to demolish and devour with no thought for the beings we fell? What are we that sixty-five years of another being’s life is so insignificant? We would burn this world tomorrow and not think twice.
There is no longer a separation between ‘me’ and ‘my body’ but the one between ‘me’ and ‘my environment’ feels a greater chasm to try to bridge. Slowly I’m feeling again, slowing I’m taking notice, intuiting the long and the short of it all, growing awareness, working with intent.
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