Give your body the love it needs

I'm used to being strong and healthy. Sure, I have had issues over the years, but in general, I'd say I've enjoyed mostly health. I also used to do a relatively nice amount of exercise - not machines, more yoga, Pilates, swimming and walking.

Then, a couple of years ago, that changed.

I find that I have to take days off because I'm dizzy, so I cannot function comfortably. I also realise eating junk leaves me exhausted, moody, and that I 'have to pay' for it. Worse of all, the whole situation means I struggle to do any exercise, which in turn pushes me to feel less able to enjoy being in my own skin.

Of course, I know that it is a reality, that it happens. One minor complaint left unattended led to another, seemingly unrelated, condition. On and on, until I am so far away from the initial point, that I appear lost in a maze of my own frustrations. Because, in all honesty, the worst thing of it all is the frustration. Sure, being unwell is painful and uncomfortable, but above and beyond is irritating as all heck when I cannot do what I want to do, when I want to do it, with whomever I had wanted to do it. Life, it seems, takes a second row seat so that you can just focus on... what?

The thing is, if this is a lesson, I should have already learned it! I had severe back issues back when, which taught me to take time, to listen to my body, to exercise regularly, even. And I did. So, why has this happened again?

I've had time to think about it, needless to say, and I have come to the conclusion that the usual advice to 'listen to your body' is not the same as learning to 'love your body'. I listened, and did what I had to do. But love it? Ah, that, I realise, is less true.

We all know that 'in sickness and in health' vow at weddings, right? When we promise to love and support one another. I realised, I never thought about how much more I should promise to love and support my body, my self, at every stage. I take it for granted, in a very utilitarian fashion, that my body is part of me, and will thus do as I want or need.

Except, out body is not a car, not a partner. Our bodies are not 'part of' us; our bodies are US. My mind is my brain is my body; my emotions are my chemicals are my body; and my flesh and bone - well, what are they but my body?

I see ads calling for a body-positive attitude, but also for a lot of control over the body.

Control is good, but love is better.

Give your body the love it needs. It might surprise you.

On language

I love languages. I speak several, having been blessed with growing up in a multi-cultural family, as well as lived in a number of countries. Moreover, I used to work in language education, in addition to proof-reading, translating, editing.

Languages, I find, are fabulously rich tools to understand culture. Languages have to be rich, since they have developed over thousands of years to explain all the experiences all the members of a community have lived through, everything they needed to convey, to teach, to share, to remember.

There are families of words, of languages, of histories. Some languages have been nearly static for a long time, their isolated peoples unchanging as well. Others, have developed flexibility in order to accommodate invasions, empires, new cultures that intertwine into a new, greater community. Then, there are the languages used as mementos, whose social anchors have disappeared, e.g. Latin, or artificial creations for specific groups, like Esperanto, Klingon, Elven.

Languages enable us to create the most beautiful tales. If one is gifted enough, think of Shakespeare, we can even create new words, yet still be understood. We can play with sentence structure, with vocabulary, with voice, with punctuation, so that mere letters become ideas, narratives, instructions to see the world under new eyes.

It is therefore understandable, I'd assume, that I find myself confused at the loss of language in modern songs. I'd go even further, and say I find myself in pain at the trend. Song is a synonym of poem, and while I accept seemingly un-poetic genres such as rap, hip-hop, etcetera, these at least use language to the fullest of its capabilities. Yet, lately, I notice a repetition of shorter lyrics, and, of these, a high percentage of swearwords. Not even creative swearwords, just mere re-use of the same four-letter simplistic expletives. Worse, in most of the cases, these are clearly fillers, adding little, if anything at all, to the message of the song.

I mourn the loss of wealth to an enemy I don't quite understand. We are succumbing to a mediocrity of thought, a paucity of expression, which bodes ill for our cultural future. I cry for the loss of the millions of words that remain unsaid day after day, millions of meanings withering, shades simplified to the most basic hues, greys gone either white or black.

I love languages, and will endeavour to keep them alive.

Promise yourself to express your thoughts in as many hues as words can provide. Love language, love your culture, love yourself.