Love Letter to any sweet soul who craves a bit of free adoration in their email inbox each month. I've never published one to anybody outside of the subscriber list, but I thought I'd share this month's because it hits on something I think we've all struggled with at some point: body love.
Without further adieu, a love letter to you...
I was talking with a client a few weeks ago when she confessed to using
some really nasty self talk around her body. “Get your fat ass on the
treadmill” was one of her meanest mantras. Big self-bully. Not the way a
girl should speak any body, let alone her own body.
Together, she and I came up with a script of much kinder words that would
ultimately be more supportive of her goal to get in better shape.
The session with her got me thinking about how we talk to ourselves. And
because I think all of us could probably use a little self love, this
month’s letter is dedicated to your body.
I want you to remember why you should adore the skin you’re in. I want to remind you why you’re lovable from head to toe.
Dearest you, I love your body because of…
Your hair that, at one point or another, has served as a playground for someone’s fingers
Your eyes that not only take in the world around them, but see when someone is hurting and encourage you to reach out
Your ears that tune themselves
to the needs of friends and family members, listen to laughter, sorrows
and secrets, and sometimes lend a lobe for nibbling
Your mouth that speaks its truth and bites it tongue; that relishes the
pleasures of a good meal or glass of wine; and that, hopefully, has
stolen more than a few kisses over time
Your neck that holds your head up high, turns your face away from people
who don’t deserve your time, and bends gently in the direction of those
Your shoulders that bear the
proverbial weight of your world, but that also serve as a contact point
for you and strangers you pass on the street—a reminder that we’re all
in this together
back that has encased that powerful backbone of yours, helping you
stand up straight, stand up for yourself and sometimes give piggybacks
to eager riders
Your belly that has flexed in hysterical giggles, swelled in the
afterglow of Thanksgiving dinner, possibly protruded with the growth of a
little one, and blessed you with more than one instinctive gut feelings
Your hips that may have been a
cradle for lovers, a channel for children, and their own beatbox,
bumping back and forth to your favorite songs on the dance floor,
spreading joy with every single shake
Your knees that have supported you in everything from pulling weeds in
your garden to praying at a mighty altar to kneeling at a humble bedside
Your feet, that have held their ground even when you wanted to run, and
carried you through life even when you weren’t certain which step to
Your body is magnificent.
It is a work of art that chronicles every day of your life so far. Its
scars are badges of honor. Its divots and curves, signs of growth. Its
lines, indicators of experience.
I love it.
All of it.
I hope you do, too.
Monday, September 28, 2015
Tuesday, September 1, 2015
My laptop has been acting a bit wonky lately. Last week, the little battery charge icon got a scary X through it and wouldn't recharge when I plugged it in. A quick Google search revealed that the battery didn't just need to be recharged—it needed to be reset. I had to power down, pull out the battery, push some buttons, say some prayers, do 10 jumping jacks, and then replace everything and wait to see if the battery would go back to recharging.
And it made me think about our own batteries. The ones that power our sense of well-being.
Most of us try to regularly recharge our batteries with naps or stolen moments reading magazines or watching The Bachelor with girlfriends. But like my laptop, I think most of us are in major need of full-blow battery resets.
What would resetting your battery look like for you?
What would you do to escape, power down, and shut off before you had to get back at it?
My husband and I slipped away for two days of camping and hiking earlier this week and it was the perfect way to reset. Breathing the pine-scented air, working up a sweat on the trails, eating s'mores—all of it was the exact kind of restoration we needed. And while we were away, my laptop battery got to enjoy a nice, long nap.
How can you give yourself a restoration reset sooner than later?
Doing whatever it takes might be the key to turning yourself into an energy powerhouse.