In learning about breathing and how I breathe, I became aware of how I am holding in my stomach. It has probably been like that for something between 17 and 19 years. I remember how painful it was to spend six months in Australia, where we kept going to the beach all the bloody time, never a break from all the eyes and all the abs. Australia is also where I met my girlfriend. And so, for our 12 years together, she has rarely seen my stomach as it really is. Not because of the petrifying size of it. Not because I am fat or chubby or overweight, not because it would change anything, anything at all, even if I was, but because I have been completely convinced that if she would ever see my body as it is, she would leave.
If anyone would see me as I am, they would leave. My body. My secrets, my shameful corners and bad habits. My addictions and my ticks. My needs. My borders. My innermost dreams.
Deep, deep down in my stomach, there are things I thought I had tucked away for good. Moments of not fitting in, of outer fights and inner wounds, of accepting to myself that I am not enough. A withdrawal of sorts, a quiet resignation. Who could possibly like and love and fall for me? The prickly, warm sensation in my skin, rising up from my feet through my upper body and my neck, leaving my throat thick and wobbly on its way, melting up my sweaty face. Who am I now? How can I adjust to be who I should? The tears pushing from behind my eyes, while I push back. Not now, not now. Not me, not me. Anyone, just not me.
Today. Step by step by tiny step I invite what was hidden to come out in the light. Sometimes swiftly and like a breeze, more often with miniature movements and respectful patience. What once was had its function. Its place. Through felt and caressed pain, small shoots of gratitude for the past start growing. All parts of the landscape. My landscape.
Hold on and let go. Breathe in and breathe out. Then let go a little more. Here I am. Here we are. Learning. Healing. Growing.
This is a calling to slow down and listen. To take a deep breath and explore our personal connection with Mother Earth. The feminine and masculine, the beautiful and dirty, the real, the messy, the sacred. Once it was natural. Today it feels crucial.
For the next 100 Days I will write a book to the Earth. For the Earth. With the Earth. The book, and the journey, is also to you. For you. And with you. Together, we are everything.
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