What a brilliant series of joining thoughts, thank you so much for that! I have been thinking a lot about our bodies, and the way modernity estranges us from them and how tragic that it is. I spoke with a young woman recently who described her body as a "meat prison" and it left such a feeling of sadness hanging in the air.
Thanks John. Sadly, this awful and utterly unfounded view is widespread, particularly among young women. Instead of being taught that the body is home, and the site of joy and learning, the Machine's helpers tell them it's defective, suboptimal and needs radical reshaping. It's a lie that makes many people lots of money and causes untold suffering to others.
Yes, women have this propaganda pushed at them - i am watching my teenage daughter navigate this swamp right now. But I don’t remember the extremity of body-hatred. I wonder if it’s a form of emotional crisis, a rejection of the vessel that holds the feelings? By hating the body we shoot the messenger telling us of our distress. Which means there’s an absolute epidemic of sadness and anger and other dark emotions going on.
I've been taught that we are spiritual beings having a physical experience. In other words, being in the body is the reason we're here at all, and only an embodied experience can give us what we need before we return to spirit. And we have such a short window of time to make the most of it...
Yes, so true. Meziane's great term 'the Secularoscene' is apt here. A culture has ripped out its sense of the divine and still proceeds to carry on as normal, wondering why everyone feels like marionettes or 'meat puppets'. Embodiment is the original gift.
I love the irony that I fought so hard with one of my 12-step sponsors (who therefore qualifies as a godsibb) over how much of a defect of character “gossip” can be 😝
I love your words. Lolling Therapy in particular made me lol.. I realised that for many years I have been cheerfully lolling comfortably and therapeutically… aka ‘tree hammocking’ (clearly meant to be a verb), between and amongst tall beings, in different and hidden parts of woods almost every day, with a cup of hot tea, dogs and special friends, especially fellow taiji players.
I believe that we can only be truly and vibrantly alive in spirit when we are fully incarnate and can relax into contact with our environment and those sentient beings we encounter. This involves observing and listening deeply, feeling and accepting the support being offered. Then tuning in to what is needed to enter into the deep, open taiji space of balance where we can unconditionally offer the same.
I once heard someone say that the body is on a journey. It kind of de-centered “me”, in a way, so I could respect the body as having its own journey, it’s own personality even, as well as me having mine. Of course we are journeying together, each needing the other. Sometimes we’re getting along great and sometimes we just have to put up with each other.
Very much so. Sometimes, my body is at the helm, so to speak, and sometimes she has been the galley slave. Getting to know the whole crew is quite a journey in itself, as there was no manifest provided, and some pretty strange passengers have tried to wrest control from the captain, at times. Luckily, we remain afloat.
I feel like my vessel and spirit (and will) are a team and the older I get the more I notice and respect the inherent wisdom of my vessel. It’s remarkable how whole I feel when aligned with her needs, and how much the opposite is true too. I’ve navigated a great deal of mental distress and trauma in this life - I have compassion for your walk Caroline - and even after being bruised and beaten she has still held me through all of it. My devotion now is to her needs and wellness letting her guide our collective way - she has great need for space and sitting under the skies and gentle movement and immersion in the elements. She needs slowness and steadiness and laughter and moonlight. Honoring her gentle needs mirrors my love of honoring the endless blessings non-human world and definitely connects me more deeply to my human and otherwise godsibs (and my caraidean anam).
I appreciate this: the team of vessel and spirit. Caroline spoke of learning to become a friend. I have not always been a good friend to my body, though she has always had my back and been there for me. Now as she moves out from post-menopause I am learning, not have learned, but learning to care for this steadfast friend. To treat her with great care and love and tenderness as she begins her descent towards death, her dying. To lavish her with love for all she has made possible. And I hope, when the time comes and if I am aware of it, that I can lay her down with honor and gratitude.
Thank you both for speaking of your bodies as she/her, as I had not. It helped me deepen into this contemplation. The relation between this spirit and this female body, how they have worked on each other, informed each other and similar...
All of my posts are audio too. Seemed like the simplest, most inclusive, thing I could do. And besides, it's fun speaking into a nest of cushions arrayed around my laptop and mic.
Every day, at some point, Holly (the dog who lives in the same house as us) will roll on her back and indicate that it will be of great benefit to both of us for me to spend ten minutes rubbing her tummy. She is quite correct. This is the Wisdom of Dog.
I listened to this essay this morning while sipping my coffee. It is beautiful, Caroline.
I am 50. I was diagnosed with breast cancer at 37 (a BRCA2+ gene mutation). I had four months of chemotherapy, bi-lateral mastectomies plus a prophylactic vaginal hysterectomy; I experienced what doctors casually refer to as "surgical menopause." It was life-altering. There are few words to describe instant reversal of all you believed you were...
I am so grateful you not only take the time to write, but to record (in your calming, lovely voice) what so many of us need to hear. Your use of the term, anhedonia is especially welcome. I had no idea such a concept exists. I remember the period of post-cancer so well. Society kept demanding I feel blessed. I felt nothing. Pink feather boas and charity 5Ks are not my idea of celebrating survivorship. For a long time, I felt very, very little. And then one day...I began to feel again. It happened in the forest. Walking with my five-year-old son, exploring the fields and forests of Pennsylvania, I began to feel again. Joy returned.
Jessica, thank you so much for sharing that experience. The profound change that comes with 'the change', whether gradual like mine, or sudden like yours, is a true rite of passage. Most people associate anhedonia with depression, as it is a major feature in many people's experience of the illness. But looking back, I would not say I was depressed: I still had plenty of energetic rage, hot fury, and eloquent complaint! The woods for me, too, provided a way out of the prison of self, importantly not only psychologically, but physically. Beloved land is 'other' and yet 'self' in a way that nothing else can approach. Slowly, land-beholding became land-joy. I am so happy to hear it has returned for you, too.
Mar 2, 2023·edited Mar 2, 2023Liked by Caroline Ross
Some have said the modern political religions that try to bring heaven down to earth are further derailments of late medieval and protestant radicalism rooted in the Nevi'im Akharonim (later prophets) and unhelpfully filtered through the street Platonism of late antiquity: the body corresponds to earth/nature and the soul to heaven/divinity. The original Hebrew material actually tends toward the formulation that "we are bodies" — with *breath* — an important detail, as you know. Add that and you get what became "the soul" too.
I like to think in the archaic terms still used by aircraft and ship captains not least because saying how many souls are aboard briefly and indirectly differentiates the living and the dead with a quiet dignity. "We are souls" but "having bodies" is not it — the kind of possession attributed to spirits is doubly wrong. The soul doesn't own or inhabit a home, like a haunted AirBnB.
Maybe souls are gifted to become persons? I am searching for the higher logic of poetry, not doxic symbols used for math and logic. I resist the language of embodiment but want to set these symbols together in a tenuous balance.
A related thought: the restoration or recreation of the world as a fully mortal and, as you say, entropic paradise is a wonderful and necessary, impossible hope. "People did not ask to carry the burden of Zion," yet there it is — without taking it up, any ideal of perfection becomes naive, fundamentalist, and totalitarian. We'll set up idols for others to admire and want to murder them if they find faults.
Exactly. 'Tragedy is the inevitable outcome of adherence to any ideal.'
Which contrasts starkly with 'Transformation is the way of Tao'.
This is why Taoists speak of practice, principles and non-doing rather than ideals and beliefs.
I align with Octavia Butler, Ursula LeGuin, Chuang Tzu and the other sages: Change is the only constant. If we adapt to the moment, we are free to have relationships with all things that exist, have interesting thoughts, to make beautiful things, sing Bohemian Rhapsody with our nieces after dinner. If we fail to adapt, and wish things were other than they are, we are stuck in 'small self' having circling thoughts about 'things'. Phenomenal waste of life energy.
Thank you for this. Just pausing on the somerset levels, putting to one side cold fingers from cycling and bathing in the grey stillness of the sky and the quiet ancient landscape of the levels. Grumpiness around cold fingers and toes doesn't have to be the last word!
What a brilliant series of joining thoughts, thank you so much for that! I have been thinking a lot about our bodies, and the way modernity estranges us from them and how tragic that it is. I spoke with a young woman recently who described her body as a "meat prison" and it left such a feeling of sadness hanging in the air.
Thanks John. Sadly, this awful and utterly unfounded view is widespread, particularly among young women. Instead of being taught that the body is home, and the site of joy and learning, the Machine's helpers tell them it's defective, suboptimal and needs radical reshaping. It's a lie that makes many people lots of money and causes untold suffering to others.
Yes, women have this propaganda pushed at them - i am watching my teenage daughter navigate this swamp right now. But I don’t remember the extremity of body-hatred. I wonder if it’s a form of emotional crisis, a rejection of the vessel that holds the feelings? By hating the body we shoot the messenger telling us of our distress. Which means there’s an absolute epidemic of sadness and anger and other dark emotions going on.
I've been taught that we are spiritual beings having a physical experience. In other words, being in the body is the reason we're here at all, and only an embodied experience can give us what we need before we return to spirit. And we have such a short window of time to make the most of it...
Yes, so true. Meziane's great term 'the Secularoscene' is apt here. A culture has ripped out its sense of the divine and still proceeds to carry on as normal, wondering why everyone feels like marionettes or 'meat puppets'. Embodiment is the original gift.
Caroline, I sincerely appreciate your outlook on life. D
Ah, sanity. Thank you.
I love the irony that I fought so hard with one of my 12-step sponsors (who therefore qualifies as a godsibb) over how much of a defect of character “gossip” can be 😝
Can you ask for a rematch?
I love your words. Lolling Therapy in particular made me lol.. I realised that for many years I have been cheerfully lolling comfortably and therapeutically… aka ‘tree hammocking’ (clearly meant to be a verb), between and amongst tall beings, in different and hidden parts of woods almost every day, with a cup of hot tea, dogs and special friends, especially fellow taiji players.
I believe that we can only be truly and vibrantly alive in spirit when we are fully incarnate and can relax into contact with our environment and those sentient beings we encounter. This involves observing and listening deeply, feeling and accepting the support being offered. Then tuning in to what is needed to enter into the deep, open taiji space of balance where we can unconditionally offer the same.
Yes! Tuning in is half of it.
Many of us could do with a tonic!
I once heard someone say that the body is on a journey. It kind of de-centered “me”, in a way, so I could respect the body as having its own journey, it’s own personality even, as well as me having mine. Of course we are journeying together, each needing the other. Sometimes we’re getting along great and sometimes we just have to put up with each other.
Very much so. Sometimes, my body is at the helm, so to speak, and sometimes she has been the galley slave. Getting to know the whole crew is quite a journey in itself, as there was no manifest provided, and some pretty strange passengers have tried to wrest control from the captain, at times. Luckily, we remain afloat.
I feel like my vessel and spirit (and will) are a team and the older I get the more I notice and respect the inherent wisdom of my vessel. It’s remarkable how whole I feel when aligned with her needs, and how much the opposite is true too. I’ve navigated a great deal of mental distress and trauma in this life - I have compassion for your walk Caroline - and even after being bruised and beaten she has still held me through all of it. My devotion now is to her needs and wellness letting her guide our collective way - she has great need for space and sitting under the skies and gentle movement and immersion in the elements. She needs slowness and steadiness and laughter and moonlight. Honoring her gentle needs mirrors my love of honoring the endless blessings non-human world and definitely connects me more deeply to my human and otherwise godsibs (and my caraidean anam).
Thanks as ever for this sharing Caroline.
I appreciate this: the team of vessel and spirit. Caroline spoke of learning to become a friend. I have not always been a good friend to my body, though she has always had my back and been there for me. Now as she moves out from post-menopause I am learning, not have learned, but learning to care for this steadfast friend. To treat her with great care and love and tenderness as she begins her descent towards death, her dying. To lavish her with love for all she has made possible. And I hope, when the time comes and if I am aware of it, that I can lay her down with honor and gratitude.
Thank you both for speaking of your bodies as she/her, as I had not. It helped me deepen into this contemplation. The relation between this spirit and this female body, how they have worked on each other, informed each other and similar...
So nice to be able to listen now!
All of my posts are audio too. Seemed like the simplest, most inclusive, thing I could do. And besides, it's fun speaking into a nest of cushions arrayed around my laptop and mic.
Every day, at some point, Holly (the dog who lives in the same house as us) will roll on her back and indicate that it will be of great benefit to both of us for me to spend ten minutes rubbing her tummy. She is quite correct. This is the Wisdom of Dog.
I listened to this essay this morning while sipping my coffee. It is beautiful, Caroline.
I am 50. I was diagnosed with breast cancer at 37 (a BRCA2+ gene mutation). I had four months of chemotherapy, bi-lateral mastectomies plus a prophylactic vaginal hysterectomy; I experienced what doctors casually refer to as "surgical menopause." It was life-altering. There are few words to describe instant reversal of all you believed you were...
I am so grateful you not only take the time to write, but to record (in your calming, lovely voice) what so many of us need to hear. Your use of the term, anhedonia is especially welcome. I had no idea such a concept exists. I remember the period of post-cancer so well. Society kept demanding I feel blessed. I felt nothing. Pink feather boas and charity 5Ks are not my idea of celebrating survivorship. For a long time, I felt very, very little. And then one day...I began to feel again. It happened in the forest. Walking with my five-year-old son, exploring the fields and forests of Pennsylvania, I began to feel again. Joy returned.
Jessica, thank you so much for sharing that experience. The profound change that comes with 'the change', whether gradual like mine, or sudden like yours, is a true rite of passage. Most people associate anhedonia with depression, as it is a major feature in many people's experience of the illness. But looking back, I would not say I was depressed: I still had plenty of energetic rage, hot fury, and eloquent complaint! The woods for me, too, provided a way out of the prison of self, importantly not only psychologically, but physically. Beloved land is 'other' and yet 'self' in a way that nothing else can approach. Slowly, land-beholding became land-joy. I am so happy to hear it has returned for you, too.
Some have said the modern political religions that try to bring heaven down to earth are further derailments of late medieval and protestant radicalism rooted in the Nevi'im Akharonim (later prophets) and unhelpfully filtered through the street Platonism of late antiquity: the body corresponds to earth/nature and the soul to heaven/divinity. The original Hebrew material actually tends toward the formulation that "we are bodies" — with *breath* — an important detail, as you know. Add that and you get what became "the soul" too.
I like to think in the archaic terms still used by aircraft and ship captains not least because saying how many souls are aboard briefly and indirectly differentiates the living and the dead with a quiet dignity. "We are souls" but "having bodies" is not it — the kind of possession attributed to spirits is doubly wrong. The soul doesn't own or inhabit a home, like a haunted AirBnB.
Maybe souls are gifted to become persons? I am searching for the higher logic of poetry, not doxic symbols used for math and logic. I resist the language of embodiment but want to set these symbols together in a tenuous balance.
A related thought: the restoration or recreation of the world as a fully mortal and, as you say, entropic paradise is a wonderful and necessary, impossible hope. "People did not ask to carry the burden of Zion," yet there it is — without taking it up, any ideal of perfection becomes naive, fundamentalist, and totalitarian. We'll set up idols for others to admire and want to murder them if they find faults.
Exactly. 'Tragedy is the inevitable outcome of adherence to any ideal.'
Which contrasts starkly with 'Transformation is the way of Tao'.
This is why Taoists speak of practice, principles and non-doing rather than ideals and beliefs.
I align with Octavia Butler, Ursula LeGuin, Chuang Tzu and the other sages: Change is the only constant. If we adapt to the moment, we are free to have relationships with all things that exist, have interesting thoughts, to make beautiful things, sing Bohemian Rhapsody with our nieces after dinner. If we fail to adapt, and wish things were other than they are, we are stuck in 'small self' having circling thoughts about 'things'. Phenomenal waste of life energy.
Thank you for this. Just pausing on the somerset levels, putting to one side cold fingers from cycling and bathing in the grey stillness of the sky and the quiet ancient landscape of the levels. Grumpiness around cold fingers and toes doesn't have to be the last word!
Agreed!