I am not my body.
I am not my body.
Remember this.
My body is a part of me,
but I am not my body.
Below me dance my feet.
They wander; I wonder:
Who is the I who controls these feet,
who forms this connection between human and earth,
movement and stillness,
matter and space?
My body is a phenomenal gift,
but I am not my body.
Sometimes I make believe
that others can look through my eyes.
Imagine how this life might look
through two foreign portals.
(Do you see what I see?)
This is what my body does for who I am.
My eyes let me see though my body.
My brain lets me think though my body.
But I am not my body, and my body is not me.
In certain situations this is clear:
when my body is sick or in pain,
when I gain weight,
when I realize that I am ageing.
I look in the mirror and know
that even though the reflection looks larger, who I am is not fat.
that even though the reflection has a bright white hair sprouting from its temple, who I am is not growing old.
that even when the reflection weeps, who I am is made of joy.
I am not my body.
Remember this.
And re-cognize the connection
between body and Self:
I will take care of my body,
and my body will take care of me.
I will wear my body like a fine suit — tailor it to fit.
I will treasure it and treat it with respect.
I am not my body, but my body is my home…
until death do us part.
Luckily for me,
I am not my body.
(And you are not yours.)
Remember this!
