Sharp curves ahead
The weight that we are holding.
I’ve been feeling thick. She’s thick in her vulnerable parts, the sensitive ones. The parts that carried shame and adolescent memories of self, societal and peer criticism. The parts that protruded out or rolled down, the ones with jiggles, wiggles and dimples. The ones that were stretched out only to be shrunk back, time and again over the years. The parts that have travelled alongside me over the years when trying to do the ‘work’ from the inside out. The outside being gruelling workouts, juice cleanses, fair and hair masks, magic diet pills, topical creams, oils, beauty/wellness/ fitness and other fancy treatments. Hiding behind makeup and clothes, the ones that cloaked my true sensitivity and depth of emotions. The ones that go, “Do you love me yet?” The body parts that go, “Can we be friends?”
The heaviness of my butt, the density in my thighs. The bloated belly that carries undigested comments of shaming from others and years of intense self-loathing. The limbs that contain the tales of comparison and suppression. A comparison that becomes a self-perpetuated mercury retrograde. The planetary aspects are all within us anyway. You are not a blip in the cosmos but an entire cosmos within yourself. Cosmic time-stoppers that haywire my inner circuitry. My inner technological system was put on a selective pause because my emails were not being sent to the right recipients. Those recipients being my love, appreciation, care, honour and sacredness. The ones that actually help me measure my value, worth and confidence. Instead, the emails of self were sent to judgment, resentment, anguish, disapproval, disgust and impatience. Outsourcing love, respect, and validation to the external and perpetuating a mindset of lack instead of cultivating my reservoirs of inner abundance.
What a disconnect in my celestial communication. My soul craves old-school romance, an in-person date with poetry and flowers under the stars. But my ego wants a Zoom call with Earth. I come back to this ungrounded place every once in a while when I’m feeling heavy and have nowhere else to go but to face the cyclical thoughts of my monkey mind. I obsess over my body’s topography, scrutinising its latitude and longitude. The hyper fixation on the details, every nook and cranny inspected under a microscopic lens of what needs to change shape, shrink or be removed. The scars, stretch marks, pigmentation, strawberry skin, occasional eczema flare-ups and rashes caused by other allergens. The body hair, breakouts, the shedding of scalp hair and the thinning of it. The fatty deposits of visible cellulite under flabby skin. The love handles, the ‘bat wings’ of flaccid arms, and the thickness of thunder thighs. Gravity becomes a reality when you feel the bounty of blemishes and the physicality of the weight that you’re holding.
It’s a momentary snapshot in time. It’s a blood test of my subconscious programming, the hardwiring of control units. It is a blink of an eye in the grand scheme of this spectrum of living. I find that I am way more critical of myself in moments of uncertainty, isolation and change. An unspoken density of fluids runs through the bloodstream in my veins that soaks into my tissues and other vital organs. Anything unspoken remains heavy. Rinse and repeat. Each cycle refreshes me. I am dehydrated from the water of my own self-judgement. There are no minerals in that kind of water. Body weight is the translator of fluids. It is the program of our ancestors.
The emotions held within our fluids correspond to our evolution. We, too, are the creatures of the sea. We were once held in the salinity of a womb and depended on the nutrients found in this watery abyss. We re-trigger the emotions of water retention when we can’t find our way back when we process our own life transformation away from an ocean that was once our abode. The emotional root of heaviness in your vessel includes a self-abandonment conflict, an existence conflict when you can no longer subscribe to outdated systems of beliefs to survive. The ones passed on through peers, pop culture and societal expectations, the ones you’ve inherited from generational and ancestral lineages. A collapse has taken place or has already collided in your realm. We’ve lost something essential to our perceived survival. The keyword here is ‘perceived’. To exist as the versions we once were or the version we are embodying in this very moment. There comes a void with this type of emotional root—a paradox of partial emptiness in the feeling of fullness. On some days, I feel full in weight but empty in security. But the gap between the two is my good luck charm. The symbolic totem of the work that is to be still done. This is how we change lineages to come by being home in ourselves, wherever we are. That is life-changing. This reformulates the strands of your DNA and becomes unprecedented coding.
The weight I am holding that you might be holding or might hold at some point in the future is a damn revolution to your evolution. It’s a rebirth of all sorts. It asks you to rely on yourself. It asks you, is my spiritedness alone enough to survive on? To choose not to conform to societal, cultural, and familial expectations. To not play a petite and palatable role to men so that you can be demure and digestible. To not shrink, be small, but to take up visible physical space, especially as a woman. To not chase the external validation and the so-called standards of beauty; instead, internally validate and accept your voluptuousness.
We are a species of survival, but we are also spirits of transmutation. We come here to filter out the past programs of needing the external to solidify our identity. To jump out of the water and continue learning how to walk again and again. Even as we trip and stumble. Our symptoms are biological, but we are also here to disrupt that. We are multifaceted, and now is the time to honour that we may be simultaneously holding onto the past while starting anew in our physiology. You and I are shapeshifters- in body, mind and soul. Let the weight remind you of your power to morph—the metamorphosis of a caterpillar into a cocoon to be a beautiful butterfly.