The Stories our Bodies Tell

Last night I attended my daughter's dance recital. She takes modern dance. The thing I love most about modern dance is the stories that are told through movement. The dancers told the story of, Pricilla the Pink. Each class had a portion of the story they told through movement, props and color.

Her dance studio also hosts adult classes, they also told a number of stories with the movement of their bodies. The production was a beautiful and emotionally driven collaboration of stories told through movement.

By the end of the night I saw a painting completed through movement of the body, a memoir on pain, anguish and anxiety, and a display of carefree happiness. Some had a narrative, some did not. The dances I saw stuck with me.

I was out for a run the next day and I thought, I wonder what would happen if I took a dance class? Could my body bend with the same grace theirs did? I then thought, Aren't we all telling stories with our bodies?

If my body told you its story it would tell of a girl who's body has accomplished a lot. A body that has, in a sense, been to hell and back. I bet yours has too.

A body that was short and strong as a gymnast.
A body that rounded bases faster than anyone else on the team.
A body that lost a lot of swim meets, but one that still loves to swim because it feels good to float.
A body that has ran too many races to count.
A body that bikes more miles in a day than some will drive.
A body that has been injured because it's owner just wouldn't listen when it begged her to stop.
A body, after all its hard work and achievements, was criticized because it wasn't thin enough.
A body that was deprived of well earned calories.
A body that was fed junk and then forced to throw it all up.
A body that miraculously housed and birthed and nourished three children.
A body who was whipped back into shape after childbirth well before it was ready.
A body that never failed me when I continually failed it.
A body who deserves a huge apology for what I've put it through.

I suppose my painting, my dance, my story as seen through my body would be one of beauty and pain. Loyalty and betrayal. A story of deprivation and indulgence. And like all great stories I hope it ends with happiness, appreciation and gratitude.

So today, dearest body may I offer you a heartfelt apology? By amending the wrong and seeking the right? May I for once tell you how much I love you and that my life and all the beautiful gifts, talents, experiences and people that are present in it are from you? And if I spend the rest of my days making these wrongs into rights will you do one more thing for me? That is, to do what you've always done. To carry me through this life as I live it to the fullest.