Dear Body

Dear Body,

There is no instruction manual for inhabiting you, no shortcut, no finished product I can emulate. All I have is an organic mess that requires embodiment, a relationship. I am not a nagging mother, a school principal with a stick, or a master whipping a slave. I have always tried to ignore my physical desires or control them. Self-discipline, commitment, mind over matter, will power – not much of relationship. No wonder you have revolted. We are equals, partners, loving companions who forgive each other our shortcomings.

What do I give you, oh body? Food, rest, sex, sun, contact with the earth.
What do you give me? Movement, sensation, safety, pleasure.

Yet the unspoken betrayal lies beneath our uncertain truce – you will get old, get sick and die. You will leave me when I need you the most. You are impermanent and your impermanence will make me cease to exist.

How can I love you if I know you will leave?

The same way I love this man who will also leave. By being present, by taking full advantage of every moment, or not wasting one second of the time we have together, by making you feel wanted, needed, desired, enough, perfectly flawed. I’m not good at relationship so I haven’t been so good at this.

From this moment, I will think of you as a lover, expanding and enriching my life. I will stop moaning about your shortcomings and whisper into your neck at night that everything is okay exactly the way it is. I will marvel at you foreignness until you become familiar. I will get inside your skin and listen to your stories, your voice, your deepest secrets. Talk to me, I’m listening. I want to hear what you have to say. My mind cannot contain even half your mysteries.

You no longer need to stay silent or scream into the abyss. My eyes, your eyes are open, my heart, your heart is sliced into pieces, my breath, your breath continues without thought.

{photo & tattoo Sebastian Żmijewski}