It went along with what I’ve been thinking a lot about lately. This thing called love. And I readily admit I am a little slow on the uptake so forgive me, but….
My thoughts begin with this body concept. How easily influenced I am (won’t throw everyone in my little sink hole). But frankly my dear I have to justify to myself why it is ok to let go of what I once looked like and acknowledge I will never look like again. Of course maybe I never looked all that good to begin with! Anyhow…
An old friend told his wife to stop obsessing about what she looked like. “You should just enjoy who you are because you will never look this good again.” He was wrong. She did look “good” again and still does! (Reverse psychology? I don’t think he’s that smart.)
I believe that this body is just a shell to protect something more fragile than my inner organs. I’m not talking spiritual…ok, maybe I am.
I believe my body houses and protects a most extraordinary essence, a soul, my soul. But the older I get the more I believe that it is protecting it from something much more than physical harm. It is shielding it from emotional and spiritual trauma. Perhaps some are able to be vulnerable and trust that love can and will embrace the intangible asset, your soul, but I know I don’t.
So when I watch pride and prejudice and I witness a love that, at least to me, is the epitome of the sharing of souls, my heart breaks just a little. My body has become a prison. It has a life sentence of solitary confinement. And I concede that I am the guard, with the key, hidden away where I can’t even find it.
I don’t know why I am that way. I have trust issues. And with societies obsession and distraction on body image, I think everyone does.
Vulnerability is the most precious gift. The body melts away not with a touch of a hand, but with the acceptance of another’s heart. A soul exposed, in the light of love, recognizes perfection in oneself.