Dear reader,
It is so hot in Texas, sweat is becoming synonymous with skin. The humidity holds a density our bodies wade through. I become exhausted by noon. No amount of water feels like enough. But I am thankful for how the intensity invites me to recognize my body as a feeling thing.
A yoga student recommended I read the book Wisdom of Your Body by Dr. Hilary McBride, whose voice I first encountered in the podcast The Liturgists. Among the many things this book makes me think about is the difference between how we feel in our bodies and how we are perceived in our bodies.
When I worked as a kayak tour guide on the Chicago River, I felt more sure than ever about my body’s strengths and weaknesses. I knew how to leverage momentum to pull passengers and their boats off the water and onto the floating dock. With the strength of my quads, glutes, and biceps, I could carefully and quickly guide a kayak into the river without tipping the passenger into the water. On the water, my torso knew exactly how to rotate, my hands exactly how to taper the paddle against the wind, my abs exactly when to engage. My biceps were weak and I couldn’t paddle backwards for longer than a minute. But otherwise, I had complete control of my boat. The sun warmed my skin and the wind off the river cooled it. My feet molded to the rubber soles of my chacos. I never had and never have felt stronger.
Though internally I felt my strength, capability, and joyous aliveness, every so often I would be snatched out of my body and plopped into the eyes of someone else. Sometimes when I gave paddle and safety lessons to men, they smirked at me. It was humorous to them – someone small, petite, and craziest of all, GIRL – in this space of sport, outdoors, and masculinity, claiming authority, as if she knew this terrain better than us.
I’m not proud that it brought me vengeful glee to watch these men smash their kayaks unintentionally into the wall, use their paddles unknowingly backwards, and soak themselves with each stroke.
It is disorienting to be yanked away from our internal bodies, an upsetting whiplash. Our culture encourages it, placing value on certain weights, heights, skin colors, hair textures, teeth, gender expressions, etc. It is more normal for us to be unhappy with our bodies than happy within them.
I practice yoga without my glasses on. Everyone around me becomes a blur. While this makes it hard for me to hold a balancing pose, it makes it so much easier to feel the sensations happening within.
What tunes you into the wisdom of your body? What yanks you out?
If you needed any encouragement, here it is - go forth and within, moving, dancing, swimming, breathing, listening to the pain and also joy, being alive within your individual and holy flesh, regardless of how it is perceived.
With love,
A
Its fascinating isnt it? That we can feel one way about ourselves in the comfort of our own knowing, in the private of our own embodied learning... only to be jolted INTO a cascade of judgement (internal and external) when faced with the perception of another. The more I allow myself the FEEL, the more I notice the shapeshift of reflection that happens when someone is utilizing my human beingness to work through their inner conflicts. It has taken A LOT if practice to discern what is mine and what is someone else's, to not take on someones skewed lens as a truth of my identity. Love this topic! Thanks for sharing.