Why is self-love something to care about? It’s like the oxygen-mask announcement on airplanes. Before you assist others, you first, secure your own mask. It’s the same with love. Loving others can be richer, more delicious, more secure when self-love precedes it. Loving oneself leads to acts of self-care and acts of self-care propagate acts of care for others. We are of more benefit to each other and to the world when we sit comfortably with ourselves in a state of love, appreciation and self-acceptance.
And you know what? I’m talking about what some might call a superficial aspect of self-love. I’m not referring to respecting one’s values, morals, ideals or intellect (although, let’s stand behind all that too please). What I actually mean, is that developing a felt-sense of loving one’s physical expression of themselves is a very good idea. Why? In this day and age, it’s a radical way to be. Industries are predicated on assuming and promoting self-loathing (big Cosmo, anyone?). Because I can remember outrageously flamboyant characters presented on daytime talk shows, like (gulp, yes) Jerry Springer, when I was a kid, being made a spectacle of so that folks at home would understand that conceitedness was a negative quality. But confidence lies beneath conceitedness, and our confidence should never have been on the chopping block. Confidence is being in tune with one’s self; on your own team, all of the time, instead of fighting against yourself with doubts and insecurities. We need to reclaim our confidence.
We all know what we’re up against when it comes to feeling good about our physical bodies. We’ve all been inundated with images of media-perceived perfection and have been exposed to a multitude of fitness crazes which suggest that being healthy involves looking a certain way (gag me). It’s brainwashing and it’s so sad that advertising is allowed to make us feel we need to be other than ourselves. Furthermore, I believe it’s implied in the messaging that we ought to strive to be other than ourselves in order to deserve and receive love. Since we all want love, it’s quite the trap. And that’s why I’m suggesting a radical solution. Love yourself. Admire yourself. Appreciate yourself. Seduce yourself. Care for yourself. Date yourself. Give yourself all of the love.
Okay, great idea right? But for many, it’s not such an easy first step to look in the mirror, after years of feeling less than, and to take what feels like an enormous leap toward genuine self-love. Instead of faking it ‘til you make it, I have a different suggestion to offer. Last night, a pregnant friend implored me, “why do all other pregnant women look adorable, and I just look, bleh?” The following personal account is my response, for her and for anyone else who finds it helpful.
A few years back, after some hours dancing, I lay, on the floor, and rested my legs against a wall to cool down. I dropped into a calm, meditative state; allowing my tired muscles to soften, my breathing to regulate, feeling the force of gravity guiding my thigh bones to rest fully in the cavities of my hip sockets. And on this particular day, though I’d done this cool down probably a million times before, as I massaged my quadriceps, shaking them loose around the bone, a voice from deep inside of me spoke up. “THANK YOU,” it said. The voice was thanking my thighs. I rode the wave. I participated consciously. I thanked them for all the dancing they’d allowed me to do in my lifetime. I thanked them for being strong and supportive, enduring and flexible. I thanked them for holding me up, enabling me to walk around, getting me from here to there, exploring cities and nature and launching me out of bed each morning. I thanked them for giving me the opportunity to perform, to teach others to dance and so on. And as I indulged in this state of sincere appreciation, I cried. Tears streamed like an open faucet from my eyes and what a relief I felt. Here’s why.
As a young dancer, I learned very early, to hate my body, in particular, my muscular thighs. I felt ashamed of them. I spurned them regularly for preventing me from the balletic future I desired. At the beach, I covered them in boxer shorts. In ballet class, I masked them underneath bulky sweats. The emotional, vibrational message my thights received from me on the regular was loathing and disdain.
The moment I’ve described above, of expressing gratitude toward my thighs, was a drastic shift in the energy they’d been accustomed to receiving. Although I’d previously felt I’d matured enough to no longer actively hate on my thighs, truthfully, I’d shifted more toward ignoring them than actually embracing and loving them. And now suddenly, they felt appreciated, from the core of my being and I felt how powerful and transformative this could be. I felt good because I felt allowed to be as I am. I understood my powerful thighs as an asset to be grateful for. I saw the silliness in believing anything different.
Many of us talk to our plants or play music for them. Why wouldn’t we do the same for ourselves as we too are always growing and regenerating? Think of the way you’d talk to your child. We also have the opportunity to talk to the parts of ourselves in this soothing, encourgaing, uplifting manner. We already know all too well the impact of negative self-narrative. Imagine the potential impact our self-directed emotional narratives can have on our physical bodies, our emotional well-being and our overall health if they are positively oriented and bursting with love.