body conscious

In the past eighteen months, I've put on forty plus pounds.  That's what happens when you stop getting all your calories from booze and when you put other things in your mouth besides cigarettes.  I really haven't been too demanding of myself physically over the past several months, but I'm finally at the point where my body is telling me it's time to get back into shape.

More than that, I've discovered how disconnected I am from my body.  I'm so damn cerebral, I sometimes forget my body is more than just some device to cart around my head...

To tell the truth, I've always had a pretty antagonistic relationship with my body and my appearance in general.  One of the lessons I'm still learning is to look in the mirror and not get pissed off for seeing someone who looks nothing like the idea I have in my head.

In fact, the image I have in my head doesn't even relate to my own body.  I usually imagine myself taller and either much thinner, or much bigger than my frame would ever allow.  I think my trouble with working out is that I'm always trying to achieve someone else's body.  I don't pay attention to the progress or changes that are actually taking place in my own flesh, with my own muscles.  I keep waiting for my body to look like someone who is much shorter, flatter, and ripped, or tall, massive, and muscled than I'll ever be.

Now, as I've learned over the past few months in other areas of my life, it would help tremendously if I'd simply stop arguing with reality.  Once I accept my body, my physical self for what it is, flaws and all, then maybe I'll start to see myself.  Once I start to see myself, perhaps I'll realize how cold and cruel I've been to a miraculous machine that has sustained me through decades of self abuse.

As with everything these days, lessons come as they are needed.   I'm very grateful to be in a position to pay attention.

Passion, beauty, and love, folks--24 hours at time...