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Hello, dear ones, Compassion, at least as I understand it, is not about getting things right or feeling a certain way all the time. It’s about showing up with an open heart and honoring what is – even when what is feels unfamiliar, tender, or hard to meet. One form of compassion that feels especially alive for me lately is the practice of befriending my body. This is different from fixing it or improving it. It doesn’t even necessarily mean liking the body in every moment. Befriending the body is its own practice – a way of relating to the body as it is, rather than measuring, managing, or evaluating it. Our physical body is a precious vessel – one that carries us through our entire lives. It allows us to move, nourish, work, embrace, love, rest, laugh, grieve, dance, and more. Every experience we have is mediated through the body, and yet so many of us carry complicated histories with it. Our bodies are not static. They are living, evolving systems. Which means that befriending the body is not a one-time achievement – it’s a living practice. One that asks to be renewed as circumstances shift, as abilities change, as the body asks something different of us than it once did. I notice this very clearly in my own life right now as I move through perimenopause. My body sometimes feels unfamiliar to me, almost like a stranger. Changes in my skin and hair, muscles and joints, vision, memory, energy, and so on – things that once felt predictably like me no longer are. And so the practice becomes: can I meet this version of myself with curiosity rather than resistance? With kindness rather than critique? For many people – perhaps especially for women, though truly for all humans – befriending the body as it is can be deeply challenging. There is almost always baggage here. Expectations. Judgments. Stories we’ve absorbed about how our body should look, feel, perform, or behave. Part of being human is living in a body that will constantly be changing. Our bodies are not designed to last forever. Change is not an interruption to the story – it is the story. Over time, every body will experience shifts in ability, periods of pain, injury, illness, or loss of function. If we are lucky, we get to grow old. And growing older means living in a body that will, in very real ways, begin to fail us. One reason this practice feels so important to me is that it is a skill we are cultivating for the long arc of our lives. If we don’t practice befriending the body now – in the body we inhabit today – we may find ourselves unprepared when aging, illness, injury, or disability ask us to relate to our bodies in new ways. Befriending the body is not about denying loss or pretending that pain isn’t real. It’s about developing a relationship strong enough to hold those realities when they arrive. For me, this compassion practice includes yoga (of course! :) – which includes loving-kindness meditations, movement, and rest – along with other forms of movement, yummy food, laughter, pleasure, and time with things and people that bring joy. All of these things nourish my physical body. And there’s another practice that feels just as important to mention. I seek out compassionate “mirrors”. By that I mean the trusted friends, teachers, colleagues, and companions who can help reflect back to me warmth and steadiness. The people who can anchor me in compassion when I’m struggling to access it on my own. ‘Look for the helpers’, as Mr. Rogers would say. If befriending your own body feels difficult right now, you are not failing at the practice. You are simply human. This is often the moment when your practice may widen to include others. Seeking out those beneficial “mirrors” – the people who see you clearly and kindly – is itself an act of compassion. This is not about perfection.
It’s about relationship. And about tending to the bond with the one body that carries you through this one, precious life.* With love,
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