My body doesn’t lie

Every morning as I sit in silence, I marvel at the infinite patience of my body. No matter how much my mind wanders and strays, there my body is, waiting patiently for the return.

In some ways, patience is the least of it. My body is giving, even forgiving. Over the years, I have starved her, shamed her, ignored her, and yet there she still is: in relative good working order, considering wear and tear, and always showing up for me as best she can.

But what I appreciate most about my body is not so much her ability to forgive as her inability to be inauthentic. My body knows before my mind does when something is not quite right. There is a feeling, a sense of discomfort, what we call a premonition, but what really is the body knowing that something is slightly off.

As so many of us, I learned early on to override those feelings because they were inconvenient or uncomfortable or didn’t fit in with what I was supposed to feel or think. But my body has never wavered. Even after so many years, when I truly listen, when I align my mind and soul and body as one, there is wisdom. And even though my body is just part of this equation, she is the one who consistently, clearly, and without fail, tells it like it is.

As the American poet Marge Piercy wrote: “the body is simple as a turtle / and straight as a dog: / the body cannot lie.” With infinite patience, my body tells the truth.