I fall in love deeply each day.
Watching my toes crinkling in the sky as I lay with my legs up, resting on the arm of the couch. I fall in love with my foot’s ability to ground my body into the here and now, regardless of where I am, or what I’m doing. If my feet could talk, they would tell me, “keep me up here, just for a little while longer.”
Feeling my legs stretch and tighten and expand and shift, move and contort in all the ways it needs to, only adjusting to what the moment requires. I fall in love with my legs’ resilience, their deep understanding that we’re in this together. “Yoga please”, they tell me.
Noticing my belly rise and fall, in the way in naturally does, with all the grace and patience and wisdom it knows how. It whispers quietly, “I’m full. No more food right now, please.” “Damnit”, I respond as necessary.
My arms, for the way they so effortlessly, and literally carry the weight of the world. Their strength and warmth continue to comfort and serve myself and others. “Loosen me up. Shake me out.”
My chest. My throat. It seems these two are always in communication — it’s like they have this constant little pow-wow that no one gets invited to but them. They have a lot of fun with each other — laughing and crying at all the same things, they are like two peas in a pod, the Cosmo and Wanda of my body. “Release” they tell me rather anxiously.
My head is the last to speak. At first, I think it’s being shy but then I hear it, out of nowhere, “Give me a fucking break” and calmly and lovingly, choose to comply.
