This is that moment you caught a glimpse in the mirror and saw a stranger.
Dear sweet, hard-working, yet neglected body;
I see you…really see you (like I haven’t in years), and I want to say I’m sorry.
I haven’t seen you or listened to you in so, so, so long. I admit to you that I have deeply neglected you. This grown-up world caused me to become a floating head, oblivious to the hard-working, never-quitting, crawling-through-the-muck body down there.
Remember when we used to run and jump and climb trees? Kick a goal? Sit bunched up tight on top of a galloping horse? Water-ski? How about the diving board?
It has been a long winter between you and me. We’ve been separated and unaware of each other. I dragged you out of bed night after night to midwife all these hundreds of mamas and babies, forgetting to mother or baby you. I abandoned you.
This long cold winter expressed by these tears that drop so easily now. It must have been so hard to partner with someone who ignored you for years. I’ve been there through two marriages; I know that feeling, I’m so sorry.
I choose to share my humor and spark and love with others and not you. I imagine you little match-stick-girl, crouched outside my window, trying to light your own match in the wet snow. No wonder you layered up on your soft spots with mounds of insulation.
I know that in those 18 years there were some big battles you were left to fight on your own. Big falls, energy-stumbles, crap food, and sleeplessness. I can feel the amour you have built. This tension, scar tissue, joint pain are all your burden to carry.
There were times in these 18 years that we did work together, right? In labor, though I think I mostly made it harder for you until the point I put my trust in you. I was so proud of you then. I’m sorry I forgot your magnificence. You are such a good leader, when I let you. You stretched so much to grow and nurture those babies of ours.
I see those purple-cast stretch marks on those soft places that are rarely touched anymore.
Believe me—it’s not because you are any less beautiful.
I looked in the mirror today. We are so much older than I remember seeing before; with scrunched up lines.
I want to be your best friend and your lover again, will you take me? Can you forgive me?
I promise to listen and listen deeply. I want to know your truths. I want to hear your soul and rhythms made by your music.
I will not forsake you again.
I vow to thee:
To serve your highest good.
I will sleep; I promise long nights of sleep and dreams.
I can harvest and cook you the best, your favorite bone broth with coconut oil. It has been too long since you have glowed with the nourishment only I can provide.
We will let go together back-ward over the yoga ball, in downward dog, and in supported savasana.
I promise to take you to yoga class until you are ready to play in the forest this summer.
And this knee, I promise I will have this knee looked at. I have let go of my ego around asking for help, and anger at the mainstream medical world.I will sit in waiting rooms for you.
I am so grateful that you waited for me. I wouldn’t have been as strong were the tables turned. Will you teach me again how to do nothing? Will you show me what it feels like to master a physical skill? Can we play again?
I hear the oceans and lakes and rivers calling…you know how much we love water…you’re such a water baby.
Thank you, thank you for waiting. I wish I’d married you all those years ago.
I’m sorry it took me so long to remember how much I love you.
Author: Augustine Colebrook
Apprentice Editor: Kari Miller / Editor: Renée Picard
Image: afunkydamsel at Flickr
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