The F Word.

Something really profound happened this weekend. I said the F word.  I said it, without condemning, without being self deprecating. Without drama or fanfare.

 

Just a word.  And, it felt freeing to say it.

 

No attachment. No story. No thought train. 

 

Just a three letter word. (Nope, not the four letter one- although I do say that heartily and often).

 

Fat.

 

I called myself fat, in the context of body size, my body in relation to the size and shape of other bodies. On other humans. I could hardly believe that I had said it. 

 

Said it without having a reaction. Said it without being in tears. Said it without wishing for it to be different. In that moment, I felt my Goddess, Grandma, Round, Soft, Natural and Strong self emerge. 

 

All of the classmates, the partners, the humans who had used that word on my like a weapon. A weapon that I accepted and thought was okay for me to hear. 

 

Just a word. 

 

I realized in that moment, that I am made of soft silk, and a breeze. In that moment, I realized the truth, that words are just words; and they land softly, as if I am not even there to hear them, and then they float away. Just words. 

 

Just words. As if no history existed with it ever at all. 

 

Which, of course, is the ultimate Truth. No history. A memory trace. Not here and Now.

 

In that moment, I realized that there were no more triggering thoughts of attack when I look in the mirror, or put on my clothes, or see my naked body. No more waiting for a different image in order to deeply love myself.

 

It is not, of course, a chorus of angels every time I look, or feel my body in a certain way. However, it is eyes that are more neutral, more detached, eyes that see and accept what Is; without condemnation or longing. Without wishing for it to be different. Just a long, slow sigh of relief for what has been held my whole life, like holding my breath all of those years. An illusion. A false truth.

 

How deep the freedom of the Ultimate Truth. 

 

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