My body's memory contains more than the physical stimulus of a hundred cracked sidewalks and rocks in the wrong place, it holds every touch, and every touch longed for. It contains the memory of every rejection and every embrace. It contatins every disappointment and every success.
I became aware early on that my body was moving my emotional reactions to its outer layers when I felt emotional pain in my fingers after a particularly horrible fight with my boyfriend. Soon after, I noticed I was feeling my sexual desire in the soles of my feet. After that, I discovered my face thing.
Then, just two days ago, something entirely new happened. I was standing in line in Voodoo donuts in Eugene, OR, all set to get a big fat Bismark or something like it, and my body started shaking. My spine started tensing. I knew it was because I was smelling the sugar of the donuts and my body was rejecting it before I even got a chance to eat it.
My body is stepping in and making choices for me. I mean, I could have ignored it. I could have stayed in line, gotten my donut, and eaten every last crumb. But then my body would have said, "I told you so!" in the most inconvenient ways, I am sure, just to punish me for not listening.
While part of me is pissed that my body is now sending me new messages, I also know I have trained it up to this. My body knows I will listen. My body has confidence based on the experience of being respected. It feels like my body knows before my brain does, which is pretty spectacular.
The only problem is, I really love donuts.
At least my brain tells me that I do. What is in my head can be self-destructive, and that, I have also learned. All this time I have been told that my brain is the director, the engine in the machine of thought and process, but I have come to see that it is actually nothing of the kind. My brain is actually more of a monkey wrench. It is more of a instigator, a malcontent. My brain is the evil parrot that repeats back to me every mean thought and judgmental phrase it has ever heard or read.
So it is that I must get out of my body's way and allow it to run the show. It seems way smarter than my brain, which has had so much practice beating me up when I fail, telling me I am worthless when I attempt something, and telling me to eat everything in sight when I am anxious.
My body has proven to be a kinder, gentler and more wise ruler of All the Things I Do, and I am willing to step back and let her take over.
That is, until I am faced with my next donut.