Self-Touch is Love
Today's beautiful post is by my twitter friend, Bridget Pilloud. She talks to animals, and she writes some lovely stuff for people. I asked her to contribute something for my self-love theme in February. She was good about getting it to me; I was lax in getting it posted.
But self- love is always relevent, yes? Enjoy.
“You need to get in your body. You need to stop directing it from your head.”
I saw a little me in my head pulling levers, moving this arm and then that arm, picking up this leg, walking.
This was a message from my morning meditation. It was, unfortunately, not a new message. I had been outside my body for years.
When you are outside your body, life can be difficult. You feel spacey, ungrounded. You feel sensitive to the world around you.
Your body reacts as well. It puts on weight in an attempt to ground you. The disconnect widens as you feel like your body has betrayed you. You avoid it, ignore it. It’s a vicious cycle.
The Big Question
The big question, at that moment, was “How do I get back in?”
I tried a bunch of ideas for getting back into my body. I made better choices in my diet. I tried acupuncture, yoga, exercise.
These all helped, but I still felt outside it.
I didn’t have an easy grace. I didn’t feel grounded. I felt out there.
Then, one day, a friend said, “What if you just touch your body? What if you just spend 5 minutes touching your feet? Start with your feet. And while you touch your body, tell your body how much you appreciate it.”
That seemed, well, silly. Touch my body? My feet? Tell my body how much I love it?
I set the timer, settled into a bubble bath and touched my feet. I noticed how my little toes turn out. I felt the tendons on my arches. I told my feet that I love them. I thanked them for being there, for putting up with pointy shoes. I loved my feet for five minutes each, every part of them.
It was cool. It was weird. My feet felt appreciated. My feet loved me back. It’s hard to explain it better than that.
It’s just, I realized that my feet are like willing friends. They never say no to my journey. They felt so much better because I touched them.
It went beyond getting the soreness out. It went all the way into my feet feeling appreciated for being my feet.
I thought of all the ways that touch can mean love.
My mother would help us fall asleep by rubbing our cheeks and smoothing our hair over our ears. My sweetheart reaches his fingers over to mine, and puts my hand on his heart. My kids sneak up behind me to hug me.
Over the next few months, I went on to love and appreciate every part of my body. It’s changed how I view my time in this temple. It’s changed how I view what I look like and who I am. I feel much more present and mindful and it’s much easier to love myself. All this from touching my feet. Crazy.
Touch means love. And self-touch is some of the most important love of all.