Back to meditation. The thoughts that began to arise were that I have never loved my body. I've always felt it was a hindrance to me. It didn't behave as it was supposed to. It didn't look beautiful. It was untrustworthy, unreliable. There was nothing I liked about it.
I spent the rest of the meditation time cultivating a deep sense of respect for my body and the job it's been doing all these years. When I nearly died, my body fought to stay present. It continues to communicate to me even when I'm not listening. It tries to give me guidance. It loves me even when I don't love it.
And yet, I am not my body.
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