Today I’m thinking about the body. That thing so many of us take for granted. Until there’s a problem, at which point we start noticing and bemoaning its state.

 

Those of us who have had health issues (of varying kinds) come to have a different relationship with our bodies. Sometimes love, sometimes hate, sometimes both. We worry about it, occasionally to the point of absurdity, feeling a bit betrayed that we suddenly cannot rely on this machine in which we are forced to travel. It seemed so reliable, we think, and there is no trade-in program . . .

 

But the complexity of the way the body functions is what fascinates me. The way an injury to my back can radiate and have so many other effects is a sobering reminder (and metaphor) of how interconnected the parts of us – and life – are.

 

I’ve studied a bit (not enough – though a polymath is never done studying!) on topics like massage, reflexology, yoga, acupuncture, pilates, dance, and plain ol’ stretching. We use our bodies more freely when we are younger. Then we grow older and become more body conscious (or self-conscious) in some ways (does this make me look fat?) – and less aware in others (did I do anything that would count as exercise today?). Too many hours spent hunched over computers and desks or slumped on a couch take their toll on us. We often forget little things – like how good it feels to stretch.

 

Dogs and cats do this often – stretching out their bodies in luxurious ways to sleep or unkinking their backs after being still for a while. There’s a reason that yoga pose is called downward dog. Stretching helps us to function, yet many of us could stand to do a bit more of it.

 

When we stretch out our muscles, it helps us be more aware of how the parts of the body work together. Stretching the hamstrings loosens the legs, which helps the back, which helps the arms and neck, which helps the face and head (starting to sound like the old lady who swallowed a fly, but the chain of interaction is valid – and much easier on the digestion). I am both intrigued and alarmed by how a lower back injury can cause shooting numbness down my upper arm.

 

And it’s not just a physical connection but a mental one as well. When we have too much emotion swirling around in our minds, our bodies respond by forcing liquid out of our eyes. Somehow, our bodies evolved to make the eyes the sluice gates for the levees in our heads, and tears help prevent the dams from breaking. How odd we are that our bodies push this overflow of sentiment (good and bad) out through a tiny opening in the eye – and that it relieves the pressure and makes us feel better (at least, usually/ eventually).

 

Crying is, in fact, a necessity. It is too often looked down upon – either as something “girls” do or something that men should not do – when it is just a physiological reaction, one that helps keep the body functioning. Yes, it can be embarrassing and inconvenient, but occasionally we need to do it. Letting the tears flow can help not just our mental but our physical state. After an intense crying session, our bodies feel deflated, wrung out like a soggy tissue, because we have pushed out some of the tension rippling through us.

 

That has to happen, on occasion. The tension we build up from stress – physical, mental, and emotional – has to find release somehow. If we don’t start to pay attention when our bodies are giving us headaches, backaches, indigestion, sleeplessness, exhaustion, etc., the body will rebel. “No, thank you, I’m not going to work today. You’ve been treating me like garbage, and so today I’m shutting down. Good luck with everything. No, don’t back talk to me – you brought this on yourself.” And so we sob, or rage, or sleep for 15 hours, something to let the body have a momentary respite.

 

Do we learn our lesson? Well, we humans are pretty stubborn – and convinced of our own importance. Most of us probably continue on with our lives, telling our whiny body to suck it up when it starts to feel run down.

 

Why does taking care of our own needs feel so selfish? Isn’t this like being on a plane – secure your oxygen mask before helping others?

 

I’m guilty of this, too. So what do we do?

 

Take time for ourselves. Sit. Observe. Stretch. Meditate. (Lots of people get put off by that last one, but even a walk outside watching the wind in the tress can be meditative.) And breathe!

 

Deep breaths can help us be present in our bodies. Long ago in an undergrad voice class, our professor had us breath in through our noses and exhale through our mouths while visualizing the air coming out different parts of our bodies. (Yes, this is starting to sound like Bull Durham and “breathing through your eyelids” like the lava lizards of the Galapagos Islands – this class was shortly after the film came out – maybe my prof was a fan.)

 

No, we didn’t think the air was actually going out our legs or fingers. But it mainly served to draw our attention to various parts of our bodies – looking for tension and being aware of our physical state. And I still do that – particularly during a difficult physical therapy session – trying to visualize the air dispersing through my body can distract me a little from the pain.

 

On that note, I think perhaps I’ve been sitting at the computer for too long. I should go stretch my body and breathe through my eyelids – just like the lava lizards.