"The body never lies." --Martha Grahm.
This blog is intended to be an exploration of what it is to have a body and navigate that relationship with said possession through mortality, society, and spirituality. It will include research, articles, pictures, quotes, personal stories, videos, insights, poems, monologues, letters, jokes, recipes, confessions, ETC. Hopefully in reading this you find connection, sincerity, and heart. Healing is possible. Living is the reward. Contribute!
Sunday, June 10, 2012
I read the autopsy alone, last summer, standing in the kitchen.
Of the words the county coroner recorded in puzzling out the unusual circumstances of my mother’s death, “5-inch scar, horizontal, on the lower abdomen” were the most cruel.
How could he leave out that this scar was from a C-section? That it was where she had engraved a monument of love of her children on her body? That it was the door to life for my first brother—my brother who, though fourteen, is not too cool to walk swinging hands with me in public; who calls me his “big sister in theory” since he’s now a foot taller than me? Shouldn’t he at least have scrawled it with red pen in the margins? C-Section. Mother. Gave her body for love.
I thought of her last night as I played among the fireflies. The last time I chased fireflies, I was a quarter of my current age, and I knew she loved me better than I knew anything else. With her hand she gave me a jar to catch the fireflies. With her touch she soothed so many aching moments. With her body she gave me and five others the opportunity for life.
Bodies that have borne such love wear the earned imperfection of blemishes and scars, wrinkles and bulges, spots and layers. I love my mother for taking upon herself these badges of devotion and sacrifice and honor this as her ultimate beauty.