Earth My Body

My body is a living temple of love.
My body is the body of the Goddess.
Chant from the Reclaiming Tradition

What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties,

in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel,
in apprehension how like a god!
Hamlet, by William Shakespeare

Much of my spiritual work is done in connection with the Elements of Life:  Earth, Air, Fire & Water.  The element of Earth is associated with north and winter.  Since here in Maine winter is in full force, it seems appropriate to focus my attention on Earth.

Earth is basically about physical reality—the material world in which we live, move and have our being.  There are many things traditionally associated with Earth and I suppose that over time I will ultimately write about all of them.  But today, I want to focus on the most intimate form of physical reality that humans connect with—our bodies, and more specifically our relationship with our bodies. 

I have only recently come to appreciate the true miracle of creation, engineering and design a fully functioning human body represents.  The health challenges I’ve faced during the last few years have pushed me to become more educated about how my body works and to say I am awestruck would be a vast understatement.  In and of itself, each system—circulatory, respiratory, digestive, nervous, skeletal, muscular, reproductive, endocrine—is an amazing feat.  And, each system interacts with the others in a layered and nuanced dance that is beyond imagination.  The Divine was certainly working overtime in creating humans!

Like many women, and some men, I have always had a very conflicted relationship with my body.  A big part of this is the cultural message I received about my body while growing up in the Deep South in 1950s.  The religious culture in which I was raised taught me two basic things about my body.  I was taught that the body was not nearly as important as the soul and therefore was not really deserving of as much energy and attention—after all, our flesh would return to ashes while our soul lived forever in heaven, or hell.  However, even if one could admit that the body in general had some value, since I am a woman, my body is sinful by nature.  I am not created in the image of god, since god is a man. 

This religious message received massive reinforcement from the greater culture which constantly assured me that my body was all wrong.  I was too fat, I smelled bad, and my hair was the wrong color.  All of these problems, however, could be solved by purchasing the right foundation garment or diet medication, deodorant or perfume, and shampoo or hair color.  The bulk of advertising on television today continues spreading the message that something is wrong with our bodies that can be fixed by consumption of the advertised product.  Today’s advertising stream includes prescription medications, but that does not mean the underlying message regarding the nature of our bodies is any different. 

Now, I am an intelligent, well-educated woman, fully capable of seeing through the insidious nature of the messages I received from both my church and the over culture of American advertising.  And yet . . . such messages, received from an early age, are very difficult to repudiate.  “It is astonishingly easy . . .  to be conditioned,” writes Gregg Levoy, author of Callings:  Finding and Following an Authentic Life.  “Imagine the effect on us of a lifetime’s worth of conditioning . . . of the thousands of messages, spoken and unspoken, that have been knitted into our minds ever since we came squawking out of the womb, and which we took on like hand-me-downs, regardless of whether they fit us or not.” 

I was conditioned to see my body as an object of little worth, and thus, I spent much of my adult life taking it for granted and abusing it in various ways.  I ate poorly, seldom exercised, colored and permed my hair and generally treated by beautiful body as a vehicle for carrying around my soul.  Junk food became a primary source of emotional comfort, since, as a dear friend once said, “When you’re dating Mr. Haagen Dazs, he never says no.”  Nothing in my extensive education taught me how to properly care for my body or to appreciate the intricate manner in which it functions. 

Two years ago, I was diagnosed with early stage of colon cancer.  This was a major wake-up call.  If I wanted to live long, which I did, and live that life in a healthy body, which I also did, then drastic measures were called for.  Since then, I have worked hard to improve my relationship with my body—to see it as a sacred gift which will serve me well for many more years if I nourish and care for it and understand and appreciate the details of how it works.  This has required over-coming a lifetime of resistance to regular exercise and considerable study of nutrition.  It is very hard, and requires on-going attention and focus.  Through this, I have come to see my body as more of a special friend than something that just carries my soul around.  

Now I’m not going to pretend that the lifetime of conditioning I received was broken in a couple of years.  When emotional crises arise, it is still second nature to me to reach for chips and chocolate ice cream.  But, slowly, I am reconditioning myself to other responses.  I’m learning to listen to my body and pay attention to what it says it really needs, as opposed the instantaneous response brought on by conditioning.  It is one fo the most difficult tasks I’ve ever undertaken.

I am supported in this task by a shift in my consciousness regarding my body and my soul.  While my body may not be the body of god, it is most definitely the body of the goddess.  As I honor and love the goddess, it becomes easier for me to honor and love my own body, with all its weaknesses.  As I honor and nurture my body, I am honoring and nurturing Earth—the element of physical manifestation.  My body and my soul are not separate and distinct entities but rather a united whole making this journey together.  Although my soul will go on when my body dies, in this time and place soul has chosen to manifest in this body.  To dishonor my body is to dishonor my soul.   

Today I support myself in the complex task of caring for my body by naming that as a piece of my sacred work and part of my connection with the element of Earth.  This elevates the mundane task of doing leg lifts from a chore to a sacred act—an act that nurtures the piece of Earth with which I have the most intimate relationship—my body.

Cup of the Moon

Cup of the moon, filling, filling, shinning in the night

Cup of the moon, spilling, spilling, spilling out her light
We dance in the light, in the silvery light, when the moon is at her fill
And when the cup of the moon is empty, we wait here listening and still
Chant from “Rainbows in my Mind,” by Carole & Bren

It’s 27 degrees here in southern Maine tonight—27 cold crisp degrees.  The sky is crystal clear and the full moon is so brilliant that it is easy to find my way as Taliesin and I walk the land.  I’m relatively new to life in this part of the world—at least in this lifetime—and if you had told me a few years ago that I would find myself wandering outside at night in the cold I might have wondered what you were smoking.  But in the past several months, I have increasingly found myself drawn to nighttime walking.

We sit by the empty fire pit and gaze at the moon, sinking into deep meditation.  I’m a Moon Child—a Cancer—so I have always had a special relationship with the moon.  Indeed, some of my earliest memories are of seeing the moon outside my bedroom window.  But the full moon in the humid night skies of Florida, where I was raised, never looks like this—so sharply bright that I feel I could use the edge of the moon to scrape candle wax off my altar.  I sit and gaze and it feels as if the very cells of my body begin to vibrate at a higher level.  Perhaps this is the essence of lunacy.

My first few years in Maine, we had over a foot of snow on the ground from Thanksgiving on and walking in the fields at night was not really feasible.  But this year the ground is still clear in January and I find I relish every additional day I have to wander in the dark, cold night—to feel the differences in the air--to catch the occasional shimmer of Faerie light--to watch the delicate tracery of the trees against the night sky—to study the stars, feeling the expansion brought by Jupiter and the loving caress of Venus.

I feel I can no longer sit still—I must dance in the moonlight, and so I do.  My feet find their own way, following perhaps the paths the Faeries have danced on this land for millennia.  My body sways—dips—turns—my ears cannot hear the rhythm to which my body is responding, but that barely matters.   I join the Faeries in their dance to celebrate the beauty of the full moon.    

The little grey dog winks in and out of visibility as she pursues her own dance through the night.  Sometimes the shadows envelop her and her chimes are our only clue to her location.  And sometimes she races into the moonlight, hot in pursuit of some unknown scent--glowing with her own energy and that of the shinning moon.

Tonight we are drawn to our little piece of forest.  I’ve never walked in a moonlit forest and am grateful for Taliesin’s presence as I open myself to this new experience.  The patches of light woven in amongst the towering shadows of the tree trunks are absolutely magical.  We move into a clearing and look at the sky.  The moon glows behind a subtle interlacing of pine needles creating an image so lovely my heart yearns to find some way to capture it so I can experience it again and again. 

After almost an hour of wandering—dancing—exploring—we are driven inside by cold hands and feet.  One more night of fullness and then the moon will begin to wane again—rising later every night until it seems to disappear—then three nights of darkness before, magically, it begins to wax into fullness again.  It is a rhythm etched into my soul—a dance of time, space, spirit and light that blesses my life as it blessed the life of my ancestors reaching back into the depths of time.  As I take one last look at the numinous beauty of fullness, I touch the souls of the other women and men, who tonight dance by the light of the silvery moon, as we humans have done since the beginning of time.  Blessed Be.