
Eve and Leah, a seventy-four-year-old African Masai woman:

Leah~I forgot. You're American. 90210. What kind of place is it? In Africa, we are desperate for food, we have so little; in America, where you have all the food, you either eat too much or not at all. Your bodies are just pictures to you. Here we live in our bodies, they serve us, they do our work.
Eve~Leah, do you like your body?
Leah~Do I like my body? Do I like my body? I love my body. God made this body. God gave me this body. My fingers, look at my fingers. I love my fingernails, little crescent moons. They lead right up to my arms-so strong-they carry things along. And my legs, my legs are long. Masai people, we are tall, I get there fast, my legs can wrap around a man and hold him there. My breasts...My breast, well look at them, they're mine, my breast so long and-
Eve~(Interrupting) Leah, wait, I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to be in my body, I can't get past my stomach.
Leah~What's wrong with it?
Eve~It's round. It used to be flat.
Leah~It's your stomach. It's meant to be obvious. It's meant to be seen. Eve, look at that tree? Do you see that tree? (Points to another tree) Do you like that tree? Do you hate that tree 'cause it doesn't look like that tree? Do you say that tree isn't pretty 'cause it doesn't look like a tree? You're a tree. I'm a tree. You've got to love your body, Eve. You've got to love your tree. Love your tree.

*Cries*
Take at least just one, only one moment during each day of your living breathing bodily life and think about this. Focus one day on just one aspect of how your body is working with you or even against you. Think about it. Feel it. Question it. Marvel over it. Embrace it.


If you ever find yourself in a situation where your partner or whoever is not satisfied with your body, I've found this thought to help: "If you don't love my body, I can find someone who does."
Regardless, there is always someone out there that will gladly worship your altar. But it first must start with you. With that in mind, I think I will begin to document the things that fascinate me about my body, the things I love and the things that interests me. The beginning of bodily love.
Our body is the carrier of the stories
of the world
of the earth
of the mother.
Our body is the mother.
Our body came from Mother.
Our body is our home.
We are crying here.
We are found.
We are too much.
We are empty.
We are full.
We live in a good body.
We live in the good body.
Good body.
Good body.
Good body.
1 comment:
Time and time again, I am disgusted by women and their distaste for their form. It's so beautiful. We've lost the ability to see each other for what lies within, and not think of our bodies as shells that need to be molded.
The tree analogy/passage is absolutely gorgeous. It reminds me of my favorite childhood movie, Ferngully. "But how can you life w/o trees? Trees give life. They make the clouds, the water, the air." Our bodies are these beautiful machines full of life, purpose, and potential.
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