05/17/2026
At the end of this divine Restore Your Core class, led by my talented friend , we listened to the poem “Tincture,” by Andrea Gibson. Here’s just the the final stanza that is still rattling in my bones (please go LISTEN to the full recitation!):
“When a human dies the soul moves
through the universe trying to describe how a body trembles
when it’s lost, softens when it’s safe, how a wound would heal
given nothing but time. Do you understand? Nothing in space can
imagine it. No comet, no nebula, no ray of light
can fathom the landscape of awe, the heat of shame.
The fingertips pulling the first gray hair
and throwing it away. I can’t imagine it,
the stars say. Tell us again about goosebumps.
Tell us again about pain.”
Dear Body,
I haven’t always liked you. Quite often I’ve hated you, resented you, ignored you, abused you, punished you, and deeply misunderstood you. I’m a slow learner sometimes. I didn’t realize you were the portal, the gateway, the vehicle, the gift that made everything else possible. I didn’t realize you were my friend and ally. I didn’t realize you were wise beyond your years and the one calling the shots.
So glad we are rebuilding our friendship, mentorship, partnership. There’s no one else I’d rather do life with.
Love,
Me
