If there's one thing corona has taught us - or the year 2020 for that matter - it's the value of having a home. For those of us fortunate enough to have a shelter, outfitted with the things and people we feel the need to have, to feel safe and comfortable, then we know how lucky we are to have one. I don't think we will - at least I hope we won't - be taking our homes for granted anymore. But for those who don't have access to an actual home - a physical space - or whose home is simply not conducive to support or nourishment or thriving, what is there to hold onto?
What a question.
There are so many answers, it seems. But also not really? I bet some of you were confused. Take a moment to reflect. What comes up? For me, it's this: what about our bodies? We forget that they are what contain us, shelter us, and keep us alive - just like homes do. Actually they are what make us alive. We would not be here without them. And I mean that in the most literal sense.
This idea of the body being our home surfaced as I was listening to a podcast about how our modern society - and in this case the discussion was about diet culture specifically - is making us feel less and less "at home" within our bodies. It is robbing us of our innate ability to connect with our physical selves, thus enabling a sense of instability, of loss. Our fast paced, increasingly chaotic, stressful and anxiety inducing lives have further widened the gap between our mind and bodies. We forget that our bodies are not just dispensable exogenous agents that we can "set and forget" although that is how most of us live - ie on autopilot.
So the question comes: how can we re-nurture this connection? How can we revitalize this sense of home within our bodies?
For one, recognizing that our bodies are our homes - the first homes we ever live in. Only then can we begin to treat it as such: we clean it, tend to it, maintain it and yes, we give it a break. When parts of your home start breaking down - the roof is leaking, a window breaks, the plumbing is clogged - then that's usually a sign that there are some issues, perhaps even some structural issues. (I know this from experience). Now contrary to physical homes, we can't just leave our bodies to go find a new one when they're not working for us anymore. We have to deal with them and do something about it.
The immediate answer would be to try to fix this problems, to mend them like we would a crack on the ceiling. But that isn't always easy or possible. Fixing shouldn't always be the answer.
Another option would be to embrace the cracks, the old features that make a home unique, that reveal its age and wisdom. The time worn characteristics like those of an object you've had since childhood.
It's up to you really what you want to do with your home/body? Do you want a shiny new "contemporary" minimalist home? Do you want a slightly older mid century modern? Or do you want that old Victorian house that's been sitting on the block for 100 years? It doesn't matter what you chose, so long as you recognize its value and take care of it as best you can.
I encourage you to think about your bodies, not in an obsessive way, but in a curious, open, and perhaps even an appreciative way (if you can get there). I am by no means perfect; in fact much of what I said here is still very much theory for me, but I am trying.
Writing about it gives me the opportunity to reflect and regroup. I haven't found that feeling of home with my body. But I am working on it. In the meantime, I'll just keep writing.
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I'll leave you with this stanza I read from a poem entitled excerpt from "The Age of Aquarius". It intrigued me for the simple fact that I had never read the body described in such a way. It puts into question everything I just described about our bodies being our homes. What if we saw our bodies as the universe? What would that change for us? As always, your thoughts are welcome.
Our bodies contain elements of outer space. So that when we’re naked we are gazing at the universe