I noticed a funny sensation when I arrived home yesterday. As I moved around, getting a few things done, I felt as if I did not inhabit this body very closely. I felt like I was pulling it along in a sense.
The odd notion I experienced was of not owning this body. I felt like it belonged to all the people and situations who have impacted it in some way. In so many ways I have parceled it out to my life. Bit by bit, I have become somewhat estranged from it. Irrelevance comes to mind.
I thought, now this is interesting. Perhaps this is a later point on a progression through time.
I think that when I was a child, I may have thought my body was myself. I probably did. Why wouldn’t I?
Perhaps as I grew up, I noticed that a lot of myself was intangible, in the mind. But I do believe that young people identify with their bodies quite tightly. We judge ourselves by how we look, God help us.
The tasks, arts and pleasures of life are tied tightly to the body.
Maybe, as time goes on, we notice that the body is not all that. It fails us here and there. But the moving finger continues to write. The mind marches on.
A surprise, to suddenly realize that I am quite separate from the body, in a very lively and present sense.
Hey, all is well!
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