I am not my body. Meaning: I am more than being ill, tired and clumsy.
Last week, my partner came home from work an hour earlier and the house was in complete darkness. On entering he asked me with a voice full of worries if I was alright. Clearly, he expected me to have a bad day, because I had all the lights out. On that particular day I was feeling not bad and on that precise moment I was meditating.
Having compassion with myself, being mindful, zen, a bit more balanced, is what I hope to gain by meditating at least once a day. This and trying to keep my eyes closed for that legendary, depressing green grass that is always out there. Somewhere.
But after damaging the spout of my beautiful, blue teapot by accident I am resenting my own clumsiness with vigour, and I am about to shatter the body that is left. Something… something withholds me from smashing it at the wall. I do, however, help myself to half a bag of crisps and some more chocolate immediately afterwards. Luckily, I am built rather slim and do not have to worry about my weight.
On top of that I am blessed with my brains, which is why my hands bring forth drawings, stories, knitting designs and other sparkling things. Those hands are full of freckles and ornamented with green nail polish. The several colours of nail varnish I paint in a week’s time are there to brighten my day and lift my spirits.
So I am indeed my body. I am body and soul and green nail polish. No worries. I am not only wearing nail polish, I am indeed dressed. It is not me going naked around the house and garden. The neighbours might get jealous for that bit of petite green grass.
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