Taking Care


I don’t often make new year’s resolutions, but this year I got quiet and asked my body what it needed. Turns out, it was very simple. My body wanted me to take care of it. To be deeply good to it. To feel gratitude for its greatness, to hold space wide enough in the world for it, to listen to the whispers and whirlwinds of its intuitive urges.


Our bodies are powerful instruments of the divine, of nature, of your own will, or however you choose to see it. For me, my body is a change-maker, a sacred skin, a past and future home of children, full of muscles that work for both voluntary and involuntary ends, bones that hold space and stand me tall, flesh and blood and mucus and oil that somehow, amazingly, make an intelligent being typing this with fingers on an iPhone and into the internet.

But most of all, my body is energy. My body is space and expanse. My body is the wisdom of all creation flowing through me, vibration by numinous vibration. If I get quiet enough, I listen to the pulse and current of that spirit. It’s as simple as asking my body what it wants — truly wants — for breakfast or lunch or to do in the afternoon. As simple as paying attention to my seated position or my sleepy cues for slumber.

When we listen to our bodies, we honor our experiences on earth. When we listen to our bodies, we listen to earth herself and to the whole of creation, all at once. Our bodies are sites of worship and joy, and places for sadness and reverie. Places where, above all, the many magic energies of the universe flow through us. When we consult these holy maps of seas and valleys and continents within our bodies, we deeply, divinely know the way of our souls.