What if you knew your body to be a landscape?
What if you honored this body-land the same way you honor the mountain in the distance, the ocean’s shore kissing your feet, the wild bluff that overlooks a valley of basalt, cut deep?
Have you ever ridiculed the way a cliff’s nose sloped or poked fun of the belly rolls on hills?
Have you ever said, “That’s an ugly river. It’s too wide for me. It would look better if it were slimmer.”
I doubt it.
Imagine that you’re not separate from land.
Imagine that you’re nature.
Imagine that you, your body-land, is an extension of limbs, of roots, of nourishment.
You’re also a harmonic accompaniment, an instrument bringing musical pleasure to the ears of Earth.
I see your feet as skin drums.
Your breasts as cymbals.
Your spine, strings on a bass.
Your throat, a sax.
Your ass, a hand drum (I mean, come on!).
Your belly, a sinuous bowl lyre.
Your body is land; your land-body is an instrument.
When we re-pair ourselves with land, with Earth, and truly sense this deep re-membering of our bodies as land, in union, we intrinsically view ourselves with more honor and love. We also intrinsically feel more love, honor, and reverence toward the lands we live upon.
In a world where we’re told what bodies should look like when beauty is defined for us, can you sink deeper and feel the animate wildness of nature and know your body belongs here? Just as it is?
And … and … and … I know the way forward (for me, at least) is to reconnect with our primal-innocence, or primal-freedom of loving our bodies as land itself—not just an offshoot of it. If we wildly love the land, there’s potential to wildly love our land-bodies.
I can promise you that land is not rolling her eyes at you or looking at you in disgust. She’s not judging you for whether or not you have thigh gap. She doesn’t care what color your hair is. She revels in your “dad bod.”
Land adores and loves you, wants to feel your touch, to be intimate with you. Land sings with you as you walk upon her with your magnificent body-land instrument.
Together, you’re a song. A song of love.
I want to care more about what this primordial, ancient land feels about me than the random group of humans who regularly, throughout time, change their minds on what’s beautiful. (Shrug.)
Here’s to our Earth-Touch, our liberation, our re-pairing with our harmonic body-lands.