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2 months ago
I wake at 4:30am, in the soft dazed light of early morning and catch my reflection in the bathroom mirror. Time is a strange, ephemeral thing.
It’s my 34th birthday today and I’m struck by the woman staring back me. Shy lines appearing from years of deep concentration, a quiet valley of care and concern between my brows. The sun-kissed skin along my chest, dappled from the easy daffodil days I’ve spent on this wild earth. My shifting curves, once washboard and determined, have gathered depths of beauty and decided to softly settle.
A while back, this kind of reflection would have ruffled me - body parts representing a myriad of problems to fix, eradicate, enhance or correct. But on the other side of an eating disorder and the insecurities of my younger years my aspirations and ideas of what “beautiful” is have changed. Rather than lament the loss of a thigh gap, and the natural shape-shifting of my body’s landscape, I now embrace Wabi-Sabi – a paradigm that celebrates the beauty of nature - it’s imperfect, impermanent and incomplete design/s.
I no longer see those lines and bumps as areas to obsess over. Instead I see them as historical celebrations of my life, worthy of honour and respect. My body speaks in tangible poetry, an ancient library of wisdom – sonnets of scars from carefree childhood days, maps, freckles and softened signs of being home to another life. Of bearing and birthing. Every precious piece reads in a way that is as miraculous as the star-stuff it’s made of.
To Be Continued. Somewhere more spacious, like the WSW blog 😉 ... See MoreSee Less