Dear Body,
You have limitations that are creating in me a gentler perspective.
And yet, I am not over my weird body issues. Not completely. (Somedays not at all.)
I’m sorry.
You couldn’t help aging, wearing out, getting sick and not all the way recovering. You couldn’t help being human.
I’ve fought against you being exactly as you were created.
And yet
maybe if I quit fearing you doing all the body things you do, I’ll never again fear another’s uniqueness.
Your limitations remind me to create something for you now and something for the future you.
Today, I give you joy and playful, spacious, aliveness.
And to the future you, I plant seeds of beauty and hope.
I want to learn to reside in you, attend to you. I want to never again be homeless, living, a short distance from you.
So I’ll offer you this blessing, this love note:
May you know in your fragile imperfection, that you are a home to much and many; may you remember your wrinkles and lines tell a long winding tale; may you celebrate the little hands you’ve held during late nights and early mornings, the hands in hospital beds and rocking chairs. May you enjoy austerity as much as celebration. May you remember you hold words and worlds. Today, I would wrap you in petals, make of you art. Today, I’ll pay more attention.
The blessing is for you, too, friends.
Today, I am celebrating embodiment. As I write this, it’s been exactly one year since my appendix burst, giving me a quite unwelcome surprise. The interesting thing is I knew that day something was wrong; however, I ignored the signs because, well, life was so busy and other things were more important.
I am celebrating all my other organs today, celebrating my imperfect, fragile body and its existence. I am celebrating the miracle of healing. I realize that healing is also scientific, but today I don’t want to reduce the magic to understanding it. I just want to acknowledge the mystical, miracle of the workings happening inside this container of me.
To celebrate, I set off on a walk alone in Frederick, MD and discovered a delightful surprise. I began this adventure as I listened to a Lenten walking meditation I’ve been practicing daily. The speaker guided me to contemplate what I needed from this walk, more than just blowing off steam. And the prayer intention that arose in me was that I’d be led to surprise joy. Surprise joy has a way of bringing me into my body more fully, fully alive in the moment.
Though I’ve passed it a dozen or more times, I’ve never noticed the Delaplane Arts Center along Caroll Creek. What a gift this space is, free to visit and packed with emerging artists. Currently they’re exhibiting local high school students. But first, as I entered, I paused at the xylophone outside to make a little music, because indeed “music is joy.” Then I met Melanie, the woman at the front desk, who was so delightfully enchanting in her description of the space and what I’d find that I couldn’t resist meandering. I was supposed to be working, but first, art.
The space was filled with magic in various mediums. I couldn’t have been more grateful or excited to imagine the future me bringing my teens here. I followed up the magic by choosing to visit a café I don’t normally, to work in a different space, to drink a delicious chai latte and follow it up with a mimosa. After all, this time last year I couldn’t consume any liquids.
I am so grateful for this body of mine, and yet I also bemoan it regularly. Sort of the way I love the world and bemoan it regularly. There are so many stories coming at me on a regular basis—many quite real and so devastating, but also stories that want to tell me how to feel about the world, about humans, about myself. When I settle into connected embodiment, with my own body, the body of humanity and the earth, often the tenderhearted place in me awakens to a new story. It’s a better one usually, much more real.
So today, I’m going to practice not living as James Joyce famously wrote of his character Mr. Duffy, who “lived at a little distance from his body, regarding his own acts with doubtful side-glances.” Ah yes, Mr. Duffy, I understand. Today, I’m going to settle right in to living up close.
What about you? Write your body a love letter, find a moment of surprise joy with someone or somewhere you’ve passed a dozen times. Let me know how it goes.
And in the meantime, an embodiment meditation just for you: Embodiment meditation
NEW!
CMJ Yoga Presents an Online Space for Community and Connection
Welcome friends! Starting April 3, I’ll be using the Substack platform to send you emails. I’m offering one last week of the full reflection with a meditation to all subscribers. Starting next week, free subscribers will receive an abridged version of the weekly email.
To receive the full reflection and more, sign up for a paid subscription.
The paid subscription option will include the full written reflection, recorded mini-practices, discounted cost for my weekly Friday class, and other opportunities. I hope we’ll continue to connect in my new space, a landing pad for you to take a “Sunday Retreat” through contemplation, meditation, conversation, and movement; a space for us to learn together to live more authentically and joyfully.
Why the Change?
I believe it is essential for humans to find connection and peace with our individual bodies, with our communities, and with the body of the earth. This can happen through story, self-contemplation, conversation, and when we find safety, ease, and connection with our physical bodies.
I am working to cultivate an awareness of the ways that yoga has remained largely inaccessible—through the images presented in the media, through high price points, through the mindset of what it means to be “advanced,” through the ways that groups of people have been left out and made to feel unwelcome in the practice. The practice of yoga offers an opportunity to live in our essential self. This should be accessible to all. Too, it’s essential for creative work to be valued and for artists’ work exchange to be equitable. My hope is to offer work that serves you, is equitable for me, and includes options for physical and financial accessibility. Paid subscription not doable but this work is serving you? Let me know, no questions asked. I’ll be happy to add you for free.
What Will I Offer?
· A once weekly mailer, your “Sunday Retreat,” which includes a reflection and a creative prompt for contemplative conversation, and a recorded mini practice with movement and/or meditation to help you cultivate a home practice for your individual needs and exploration.
· A once monthly “Dharma talk” on the last Thursday of the month. Conversations will center on a selected topic or reading to encourage active and engaged participation in the way of love and peace. Short meditations included. Talk is recorded and sent to all subscribers.
· A recorded library of classes on Vimeo
· Weekly live Friday morning classes (Zoom and in-person options) offered at a discount to all subscribers.
Spring is fickle, don’t you think? But Friday morning yoga is still here to warm and nourish you:
Friday Morning 9-10:30 AM Live Yoga w/ Christa
Conversation, Meditation, and Movement
In-Person in Shepherdstown, WV, or Online w/ Zoom.
Limited Spacing available in-person. Please be mindful of others and practice online if you’re feeling under the weather at all.
Video recording sent to all registered guests.
$15 Reserve your spot via text to 401-440-0279. Advance payment required to Venmo or Paypal. Discounted price for Substack Subscribers: $8