The Stories Our Bodies Tell
First dive at ten years old in Roatan, Honduras.
When I was ten years old, I fell in love with SCUBA diving. The first time I strapped on my oxygen tank and sank to the bottom of the sea, my heart stopped. That’s not exactly what you want to happen 30 feet below sea level, but I could not help myself; I had discovered a whole new world.
I could never have fathomed the emotions that would overwhelm me upon seeing the silent serenity of sea turtles (swimming to the surface for fresh breaths of air), fish (practically glowing in neon colors), and ancient coral reefs (stuck together at odd angles like a work of modern art).
Each time I dive, I re-discover this sense of wonder. For all too often, when I look at the ocean, I forget what lies beneath its waves. I forget not because this underwater world is any less worthy of my thoughts and appreciation, nor because it does not affect me (I understand that coral reefs impact ecosystems worldwide), but because I become so caught up in my own pains and pleasures -- my own minute human life -- that I fail to contemplate the ocean at a deeper level.
Similarly, we often look at the bodies of ourselves and others without acknowledging the deeper processes lying beneath the skin. We miss the stories that, like the tides of the sea, push and pull people into unique bodies and spaces. We miss their shipwrecks, the proof of others’ prior exploration and relationships gone bad. We miss the sharks that haunt them, the trash that pollutes them, the rare pearls hidden (perhaps even from them) in their oysters.
Scuba diving in Cenotes, Mexico.
Our bodies are oceans that hold years upon years of love stories, adventure sagas, tragedies, comedies, and thrillers. Growth comes when we accept our bodies not as static objects or materials, but as points of convergence for energies, stories, histories, and goals. When we accept this, we accept that the landscapes of our bodies will look and feel differently at each and every moment of our lives...and that is beautiful.
Allow me to illustrate this concept through one of the most transformational experiences available to humankind: the thru hike. The average thru hiker (the term for someone who hikes a long-distance trail in one calendar year) of the Appalachian Trail covers 2,182 trail miles in 165 days. In the process, despite significant gains in muscle mass (peep those killer calves!), they typically lose 30 pounds, though I recently met a man who had lost nearly 70. It is a great laugh to look at before-and-after photos of thru-hikers. With proper nutrition, they look like victorious Spartans atop Katahdin. With improper nutrition...well, they look like emaciated zombies from your favorite apocalypse film.
To avoid the latter, many people attempt to gain weight in the months prior to starting the trail. In 1989, my parents favored ice cream. My weapon of choice is the irresistible cuisine of India, where I am living for two months before beginning my own thru hike in March. Imitating the same bears we expect to see on trail, we intentionally fatten ourselves up. Unlike bears, however, we are not going into hibernation; we are going on a brutal 5-6 month hike, and we realize that we must love and cooperate with our bodies if we expect them to carry us to the end of our spiritual and physical journeys.
This is all to say that our bodies have seasons, whether in relation to thru hikes, career stressors, periods of loss, or some other phase of life. They tell stories of character and of intention. Our bodies serve us every day as temples in which we can experience the passions of the soul. True contentment does not lie within the surface-level appearance of one’s body. It lies within what one’s body enables the heart and mind to see, to do, to appreciate, to love, and to nurture.
And yet, if we do not make the effort to consciously acknowledge this every day, we will look at our bodies as we so often look at the sea. We will see a gorgeous, glassy surface on a calm day and assume complete peace, while underneath lies turmoil. Or we will see rough waves and avoid them at all costs, not realizing that below the surface lies a stunning coral reef waiting to be explored.
But you, my friend, are an ocean with great depths. All you have to do is dive beneath the surface and see for yourself.