We speak of spirit.
Of visions, of gods, of stars.
We chase awakening.
We seek enlightmenment.
We seek signs in the sky.
But we forget—
the miracle was never above us.
It was beneath our skin.
Your body—
not a burden.
Not a thing to fix or hide.
But a temple of 27,000,000 energy centers,
each one humming,
pulsing,
working tirelessly to keep you here.
Not once do we bow to the kidneys.
Not once do we thank the liver.
Not once do we kiss our knees for bending without complaint.
We look in the mirror and judge,
when we could whisper:
“Thank you for carrying me through pain.
Thank you for breathing when I forgot how.
Thank you for holding my heartbreak without breaking.”
Your body is not a prison.
It is a portal.
That stomach you criticize?
It holds the fire of digestion,
turning matter into life.
That spine you curse for aching?
It’s the pillar of Shakti,
holding you upright in this wild becoming.
Your skin is not flawed—
it is a veil between two worlds.
Let us begin a new practice:
Look in the mirror and say—
“Thank you for being my animal.
Thank you for being my temple.
Thank you for not giving up when I did.”
Touch your heart and say—
“You beat for me when I forgot to love myself.”
Touch your legs and say—
“You carried me even when I wanted to fall.”
Touch your womb and say—
“You are holy. I remember now.”
Final Prayer:
I will not abandon my body to chase the sky.
I will not shame the skin that has held my becoming.
I return.
I return.
I return.
To this flesh.
To this heartbeat.
To this breath.
To this sacred, shimmering One.
