This morning I woke up thinking about my body. Specifically my body as a vessel.
When I get into my car I do not become the car.
I experience the ride as a passenger.
I do not “feel” the car’s gas tank level.
I do not “feel” the engine, the tires on the road’s surface.
But I do experience the sensations those things create within the atmosphere of the car’s interior.
So, if my body is also a vessel, isn’t it true that I only experience the atmosphere of the body?
When my car needs gas I take it to the gas station.
When lights come on I take it to a mechanic.
When my body needs a doctor I take it to a doctor.
Lately I have been very much experiencing every bodily sensation, whether it is pain or simply the fear of sudden onset sickness.
I don’t know. But I do know that I have trusted this body for years to know what it needs to do and now it is as if I feel it has or will betray me any moment.
I reject its changing status—like it doesn’t or hasn’t known what it is supposed to do.
If I obsess over my car and attempt to fix things that aren’t broken, couldn’t I cause more problems?
This menopause transition has me obsessing over these changes that my body was designed to make.
Like I’m too “inside” my body, not just “aware” of it.
If I was as obsessed with every noise, bump, or sensation inside my car when I am in it, every ride would be anxiety-laden.
Perhaps that is why my body and my mind have been filled with anxiety.
I’m telling myself “because it is different, it is wrong.”
But I am in transition, not unlike the transition I undertook during puberty.
The mindset was different.
During puberty I was “growing up” but during the menopause transition I am “growing old.”
“Growing old” in our culture and society is seen as something that must be stopped at all cost—where as growing up is celebrated, encouraged, and sometimes forced to happen early.
I’ve been in this body for 45 years—of course I am going to know its noises, its moods, and subtle changes when they happen.
But maybe it’s not my job to tell my body what it needs…
Maybe it is my job to allow it to tell me what it needs.
More stretches, more sleep, more water, more patience. More patience.
I know what it’s saying. It’s a wonderful host for my consciousness.
I am not my body. I am its guest and I need to start really listening and acting grateful for the invitation to stay.
A few voices that walked beside me while I wrote this:
C.S. Lewis (sort of):
“You do not have a soul. You have a body. You are a soul.”
Eckhart Tolle, gently from the passenger seat:
“You are not the body. You are the awareness that notices the body.”
Ram Dass, smiling:
“The body is the spacesuit. Treat it kindly, but remember who’s wearing it.”
And my own quiet voice, finally learning:
Thank you for carrying me this far.
I’m going to try trusting the ride.
I’m going to stop grabbing the wheel every time the road gets bumpy.
Because this vessel isn’t betraying me.
It’s just speaking a little louder so I’ll finally listen.
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