I've been asking myself this question a lot lately: What does my body know that my mind has forgotten?
What does my body know that my heart is afraid to express? Or has forgotten how to express?
But my body -- my heart and soul -- is on its way to becoming alive again, in small ways.
In the beauty of a yellow tulip. In the beauty and simplicity of a clear vase with long-stemmed flowers. In the gifts of earth and water, I am slowly remembering.
The body -- my body -- is my friend and not my foe. It has lessons to teach me, and perhaps has been trying to do just this for a long, long time.
But I have been too afraid to listen. Or I have not know how to. Until now.
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