“My body is my temple”…that’s what my mother used to say.
“Feed it with proper soul food; wash off the dust and mud; work it out by running to the top of your dreams.”
She would look me deep in the eyes and say,
“Remember, it’s a gift from our creators; it carries the blood of our ancestors; it’s a symbol of who we are, where we came from, and it will take you wherever you want.”
My body is my true home. It’s where I live; it’s my sacred place; it’s where I pray; it’s where I work; it’s where my tears run when I set my emotions free.
It’s my tool to love, create, destroy, to choose; without it I would not feel the velvet of the rose petal or the sharpness of its thorn.
Without my body my anger could not be heard. My passion could not be expressed. Without my body I could not be me.
And like my mother said: “Your body is your temple, and it is a gift.”
