Body Awareness

Instead of lecture Tuesday night, we had a class called Body Awareness. Other than what the course title and the instructions to "wear loose-fitting clothing" might imply, I had no idea what to expect. I just knew it'd be good.

So it was, and so it is.

Our teacher, Michael Rice, spoke for nearly an hour on the importance of taking care of our bodies. (I can't do him justice here; suffice it to say that Michael is a live wire, and his energy is infectious.) While listening intently, sitting on the floor cross-legged and erect, I cheered inside as I thought about the me of one or two years ago who would have felt utterly discouraged for being fat and out of shape, all what was I thinking, trying to be a massage therapist?, the me who could not have sat cross-legged for that long without pain. No, I wasn't thinking of that me, exactly; I was noticing the difference. I noticed me, here and now, strength in my legs, endurance in my abdomen, and enthusiasm running the length of my spine like electricity, tiny charges jumping out my fingertips and toes. And it was good.

Then we moved. For two hours, we stretched, marched, bent this way and that, pushed up and pushed down, moved every joint in our bodies in every direction they're meant to move, and we stretched again. There I was, 44 years old and overweight, exercising among nearly 50 students, most of whom are in their 20s, and I kept up and I breathed deeply and I felt great. I felt great!

So I did, and so I do.