I remember making a list. It was supposed to be in order of importance. Woman, Canadian, musician, daughter, sister etc. But what I am or who I am is my body. We forget that sometimes. I remember someone asking me "who I was" and I was rambling about something, and the person said - look down, at your body. Feel your heart beat and hear yourself breathe, that is who you are.
Sometimes we say "my body has failed me" but that is not possible, how could it fail you if it is you? Our bodies are just that. They get sick, they heal, and ultimately they die. Sometimes they actually create another body inside a body (it is still weird even after it has happened). But mostly we forget them, or hate them, or mistreat them, objectify them, sexualize them, or ignore them.
What we use to identify ourselves is just transient, and it all could change. We like to categorize, or put ourselves into roles. "I am a mother, I am a wife", but really I am me.
And then I look down and I see a little body sucking on me, and by some miracle, and without me feeling it, milk comes out.
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Perhaps who you are for the time being. Have you noticed how your body changes? Come out while there's still time!! (A little call and response.)
ReplyDelete"but really I am me"
ReplyDeleteI feel I am slowly coming to understand this, experience this. Attachments to identities are alluring and offer such promises of safety. false safety but the illusion is seductive.
And we are our bodies and are somehow more than our bodies. I guess I'm beginning to really live that we are, in our essence, an unknown, in the sense that we refuse to be defined or labeled.
It is freedom, which is liberating and frightening both.
Wonderful post.