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Body Love



So, she threw "I hate you" at me.

It was the first time she'd ever directed the words at me. She virtually spat the sentence out. How dare I take her from her friend. How dare I end her game. How dare I put my needs before her life.

Six times she said it.
Six "hates" in all.

Each of the 6 hates dipped in ugly, potent poison. It felt like 6 hard hate arrows furrowing deep inside my centre.

It really hurts when your walking heart beats out of rhythm with you.

She said it because she didn't agree with me. And that I ruined her 7 year old fun. After the words had carved their way from her lips to my heart, she ran to her room. Where consumed by her anger, for three hours she curled into herself. A venomous ball who couldn't come out. As she howled and hurled herself against the injustices of the world, I asked through the door for an apology.

She screamed from behind the barred door, "Sorry!"
But I knew she didn't mean it. Not like she had meant the arrow words of hate.

The words that hurt both our hearts.

Finally, as the day folded into the early spring night, she moved the stacked toys that barred her bedroom door. Her cheeks were red and her eyes swollen. Her hair had fallen over her face. Her hollers were whispers, her hard anger had softened.

She was shattered and scared and sad.

"I, I, I don't know how to say sorry" she breathed as she held all of herself in her shoulders.

And because there were no words, she hugged me. She hugged me as hard as she could. As she hugged me, she put her head on my heart.

Think lateral side openers, standing twists and antar mouna.

Sometimes words are like water. Once out, they can be hard to pull back in. And other times, the words that we're looking for - well they're just not there. But our bodies are a potent way to by-pass words and create connection.

We can hug with our eyes. We can hold with our hands. We can say "I'm sorry" and "I love you" with a hug.

As my 7 year old hugged into my belly with the whole of her being, I remembered a time when we were inseparable. When she was within my womb she now cradled. When our beating hearts were a rhythm as one. I realized, this is the first time she has really hated me. And it probably won't be the last. Because she won't always agree. And I will again ruin her fun. Her wants and needs will clash with mine.

But at least she knows how to tell me love. Even if not yet with her words. And my body can hold and support and forgive her.
Because she knows how to talk with  the whole of herself.

She can always come and sit close within my arms.

Where she remembers she is my walking heart.


Rache Hely Yoga


By Rachael Hely
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