Blame and the body
"When we blame someone we put our happiness in their hands." Isaac Shapiro
I would like to live in a place where there is little tendency to blame the body for its perceived imperfections and failings. I would like to soak up that ease and celebration of body-as-it-is.
I don't know if I know anyone who loves their body just the way it is functioning. No wonder I have spent most of my life blaming myself (i.e. body/mind) for preventing happiness.
Yesterday I had a conversation with Thyroid, who in this body named Joan has struggled to do its job for decades, perhaps even all of its life. I saw the blame I've thrown at it for not functioning the way I thought it ought to, and I saw too the burden that goes with placing my happiness in the hands of another. Thyroid naturally cares about my happiness, so probably has tried to work even harder to give what I apparently want. The harder it works, the less optimum the functioning.
This morning I looked into the notion, "I should be more disciplined with exercise, food, etc." I used Byron Katie's four questions for inquiry. When I came to asking what would it be like to be incapable of thinking this thought, I felt a surge of grief. For myself, for our culture, for the lack of exemplars who love their bodies just as they are.
When I cast my eye on the cats, I realize I do know many who accept body-as-is. Bonz, when she was dying, would wobble through the ferals and semi-ferals with curiosity and interest and no apparent fear. Once, the wind knocked her over, but she just got back up and continued her enjoyment of the outdoors. She cared not a whit about her body's appearance or ability.
I had the honor of accompanying Bonz when she was taking her last breaths. And to be with her body for another day. We laid flowers on her body and made prayers and sang her favorite songs and felt her spirit as it moved out of the body into vastness. It was clear to me then and for some time after that all these obsessions about how the body behaves and looks were of no value. The body really does die. But something much more precious continues, something we call by many names that is eternal.
When I finished my inquiry this morning, I re-read some of the text in Katie's book, "I Need Your Love--Is that True?": "Love won't deny a breath. It wouldn't deny a grain of sand or a speck of dust. It is totally in love with itself, and it delights in acknowledging itself through its own presence, in every way, without limit. It embraces it all, everything from the murderer and the rapist to the saint to the dog and cat. Love is so vast within itself that it will burn you up. It's so vast that there's nothing you can do with it. All you can do is be it."
May blame burn up.
I would like to live in a place where there is little tendency to blame the body for its perceived imperfections and failings. I would like to soak up that ease and celebration of body-as-it-is.
I don't know if I know anyone who loves their body just the way it is functioning. No wonder I have spent most of my life blaming myself (i.e. body/mind) for preventing happiness.
Yesterday I had a conversation with Thyroid, who in this body named Joan has struggled to do its job for decades, perhaps even all of its life. I saw the blame I've thrown at it for not functioning the way I thought it ought to, and I saw too the burden that goes with placing my happiness in the hands of another. Thyroid naturally cares about my happiness, so probably has tried to work even harder to give what I apparently want. The harder it works, the less optimum the functioning.
This morning I looked into the notion, "I should be more disciplined with exercise, food, etc." I used Byron Katie's four questions for inquiry. When I came to asking what would it be like to be incapable of thinking this thought, I felt a surge of grief. For myself, for our culture, for the lack of exemplars who love their bodies just as they are.
When I cast my eye on the cats, I realize I do know many who accept body-as-is. Bonz, when she was dying, would wobble through the ferals and semi-ferals with curiosity and interest and no apparent fear. Once, the wind knocked her over, but she just got back up and continued her enjoyment of the outdoors. She cared not a whit about her body's appearance or ability.
I had the honor of accompanying Bonz when she was taking her last breaths. And to be with her body for another day. We laid flowers on her body and made prayers and sang her favorite songs and felt her spirit as it moved out of the body into vastness. It was clear to me then and for some time after that all these obsessions about how the body behaves and looks were of no value. The body really does die. But something much more precious continues, something we call by many names that is eternal.
When I finished my inquiry this morning, I re-read some of the text in Katie's book, "I Need Your Love--Is that True?": "Love won't deny a breath. It wouldn't deny a grain of sand or a speck of dust. It is totally in love with itself, and it delights in acknowledging itself through its own presence, in every way, without limit. It embraces it all, everything from the murderer and the rapist to the saint to the dog and cat. Love is so vast within itself that it will burn you up. It's so vast that there's nothing you can do with it. All you can do is be it."
May blame burn up.
posted by Forgive the Dream at 7:38 AM
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