I’m naked in the mossy woods.
The huge tree behind is holding me and everything feels so peaceful, outside me and inside me.
I realised when sitting here that I love my body and I love me. I don’t mean I love my body because I have reached what’s seen as the perfect waist hip boob ratio or that I am sexy and ready to shake my ass in a bikini body. But I mean that I love every strand of hair, every scar, every line, curve, bone, pore and shade of skin. I love it all with a gentle tenderness and protective quality given to the mightiest of warriors.
This body, this flesh suit that I’m so lucky to have, this me has been there every step of the way even when I hated it , even when I repeatedly pored so much booze down the throat, filled it with shameful feelings, filled it with hate, filled it with shit food and terrible men. Even when I was so disconnected from it that I couldn’t bare to look in the mirror or see a photo of myself. This body has been cut open, abused, raped, unloved, scared, diseased, toxic and shamed. Through finding me, through finding my soft heart and protecting who I am, by connecting to the land and saying yes to me, yes to life and yes to health, I have been rewarded with the ability to hear what I need, the senses to understand the language of my heart and gut. This body is amazing!
This body enables me to hear, touch, taste, see and feel this beautiful world around me and inside me. I might not be what the mainstream media considers perfect but I’m what I consider perfect; scarred, worn, glowing, alive, fierce, imperfectly perfect, fleshy, boney honey filled beauty that has journeyed through shadows to find the perfect balance.
We have journeyed together my soul and this vessel, we have been pulled apart and now we are together as one with a feeling of “wow! What was all that about!” I now protect, honour, nourish and love my body like a wild wolf and a tender medicine woman.