Looking at an Old Photo...

Looking at an old photo taken in my childhood/adolescent room…

I wonder what I would feel if I could magically walk into that room again. Would I view it through the eyes of a stranger- a mere observer, or would I know every detail, every secret? Would I have the same sentimental attachment to the pictures, posters, and other bits of “décor” lining my walls and bulletin board? Perhaps I would shake my head and grin at the absurdity of it all.

And if I could leave a note, just one little note, what would I say? Would I warn about the future pitfalls, missteps, and heartaches? I could try to prevent some of the bigger bumps of my life and risk the time-travel-paradox fallout. I imagine it could serve as a shortcut to life’s lessons; a shortcut to confidence; a shortcut to gratitude.

Of course, even hypothetical, time-traveling me would realize I couldn’t leave such a note because a shortcut to life is no life at all really. It would ultimately be cruel of current me to rob past me of learning those valuable lessons, even the ones learned through the sting of life as well as the laughter of life. As it is said, calm seas do not make good sailors.

But I think before I left my adolescent sanctuary, I’d simply write: The journey is bumpy but brilliant. 

Photo from: http://www.starwarsreport.com/tag/time-travel/

Mirror, Mirror...

Like many women raised in the beauty-obsessed culture of California, I have spent much time criticizing my appearance from tip to toe, lamenting the dissimilarities of my reflection and those of magazines, friends, what- have-you.

Today, in the midst of what could only be described as a visual vivisection of my physique, I stopped. I stopped after I had slandered my voluminous legs and realized how incredibly pointless, harsh, and ungrateful my sentiments were. How speaking such ideas was a horrible waste of precious breath, and not just a waste of breath, but a bit blasphemous.

I have the gift of movement. My legs take me around my apartment, my city, my world. My legs work and work well. My legs are the foundation to a body that is, for the most part, healthy. How lucky am I? I also have arms that allow me to hug those I love; I have eyes that see the beauty in the world; I have ears that take in harmonies and all the sounds of life. I am blessed. My body is a blessing – imperfections and all.

I am not taking this as a simple resolution that will get me to the gym so that I can finally like my body. Nope. Instead, I am taking this moment to love my body as is and begin to take of it as much as I take care of anything I love: with kindness, patience, and perseverance.

Do I want to be healthier? Of course, but it begins with my attitude.