A Body Journey

This blog is dedicated to the subject of travel—a word as big as the world—bigger if you consider all the types of journeys that fall within the realm of travel. Literary journeys. Physical, mental, and spiritual journeys. Emotional and imaginative journeys. Journeys of study.

No matter the type, every journey is about gaining insight into ourselves and the world around us. And then back again.

I have taken literary journeys through hundreds of books. I have taken journeys of study through art school, writing school, teaching school, language classes, workshops, self-study of subjects that randomly piqued my interest. I have taken physical journeys to places around the world from Western Samoa to Chad, from Botswana to Italy, from Spain to South Africa, from Costa Rica to St. Barths.

But there is a journey I need to take to a place so close to me yet so distant. This place is my body.

photo by Adji Teoudoussia

Over the last 40 years, I have mostly felt my body to be a source of shame, failure, and malfunction. At times my body has felt positive, joyful, powerful, and in my control.

But I don’t know my body well. I’ve ignored it. I have worked hard to disassociate from it. I have eaten, drunk, overworked, distracted my mind—all to separate from my body.

Less metaphorically speaking, when I see myself in mirrors, photos, or videos, I’m surprised every time. The woman I see looks nothing like me. To be honest, I don’t know what I look like. I guess it’s not even a matter of looks. It’s a matter of worth. Somehow I was wired to think that worthiness was something I had to earn. I was floored five years ago when my therapist told me everyone is born worthy. I had been working so hard to gain worth by getting straight A’s, trying to please everyone, making sure I was liked, working overtime, being organized, being the best at traveling, making creative stuff, raising children on my own. I expended all of my energy to get worthy. Only to find out that’s not a thing. I wasted precious time and built a wall between me and my “worthless” body.

As a result, I really don’t know the landscape of my body. It’s a blur. In the distance, I see misty history. There is a lot of dark, tangled underbrush. I can sort of make out a few rolling hills and gentle meadows. There may even be a mountain behind the many heavy clouds.

Female bodies like mine have been raped and abused. So, there is fear.

White bodies like mine have enslaved black bodies and built this whole country upon their lashed backs. So, there is guilt.

Single parent bodies like mine have been isolated and consumed with caregiving, not care receiving. So, there is loneliness.

Slow, breathless bodies like mine have been perceived as lazy, unhealthy, and uncared for. So, there is shame.

Fat bodies like mine have been told over and over again, “Just learn to love your body.” And for years I tried. Until one day, I thought, “No, you learn to love my body.”

Bodies like mine also grow life in their bellies, lead protests, climb mountains, and make art.

photo by Adji Teoudoussia

So, I have decided to take a body journey over the next 8 months. Without trying to change, without judgment, without the weight of the world, I simply want to explore. I want to see what my body is capable of, question and study my body, read and write about my body.

Each month I will explore in a different way. At the end of each month, I will post about my findings.

January

·      Snow activities

·      Hibernation

·      Massage

·      Meditation

February

·      Self-reflection

·      Yoga

March

·      Strength training

April

·      Walking

·      Hiking

May

·      Swimming

June

·      Kayaking

July

·      Paddle boarding

August

·      The Amazon and Galapagos Islands

At the end of this 8-month journey, I will find myself in the Galapagos Islands, where Darwin thought up the theory of natural selection. Herbert Spencer, an economist who was comparing his theories to Darwin’s came up with the term “survival of the fittest.” We all know this to mean that those bodies which are the most fit will survive. What does “fit” mean for me? I hope to stand upon those islands with my own measure of fit and a focused picture of my body for which I am the frame.  

photo by Chris Blasingame