Dear body, my loyal companion,
I must confess, I did not value you until a few years ago. I was never taught that men will come and go, friends will, too, but you will always be by my side, and just like any other relationship in my life, I need to nurture the one with you as well. You were always this machine, the purpose of which was to help me move from one place to another so that I could do things I never thought had anything to do with you.
But, in fact, I could dance and drink, and hug my friends and family, and make love to my lovers, because you were by my side, healthy and kicking.
I didn’t understand what this meant until I was well into my 20s. Even though I had danced for as long as I could remember, I did not understand the power that you held, and the depth of our bond and journey together, until yoga found its way into my life. There, on the mat, three times a week, for the first time in my life, I connected with you. I spoke to you, and heard you. I instantly fell in love, and I haven’t looked back since.
I learnt that you are a lot more than simply flesh and bones put together only to manifest my heart’s desires. You have your own desires, between you and me, it’s a two-way street.
I learnt of your wish to be looked after, and I learnt how to look after you. You don’t ask for much, I know. Just clean food, and movement, and you give so much in return.
You are not perfect, and neither am I. I hold your flaws just the same way you hold mine – in the form of knots and stubborn tightness that is almost always a bad memory tucked away in my deep tissues. For this, I thank you. In return, I promise to not burden you with too much of my emotional trauma. Along with showing me that you hold my life’s experiences when they are too painful for me to give words to, you have also taught me how to release my pain. This is the greatest gift you have given me – the ability to feel, and the ability to let go.
I know I am not always kind to you – sometimes, I drink too much, and don’t eat enough. Sometimes, I forget to breathe. But, I try. On this day of love, I promise to change things a little bit. In a few years, you may not be as resilient as you are today, bouncing back every single time I falter. In a few years, I hope I can give you love untainted by my indulgences and the vices I am so deeply attached to. In a few years, I hope, you and I, both, will have replaced all the hurt and the pain with love and hope!
Always trying,
The one who inhabits you
