["My Left Shoulder" was originally published in May 2011 and quickly became one of the most-read posts around these parts. Learning how to speak kindly and lovingly to our bodies is one of the greatest spiritual practices we can do in this life. Here's "My Left Shoulder" again for your reading pleasure.]
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“That’s 20 years of women right there,” I said to my massage therapist as she dug out another seized muscle.
“More like high school. Feels dark. Old. Dark brown.”
“That’s J,” I said. “Ninth grade.” (Oddly, all of my names of my great loves started with the letter “J”.)
She kept chasing down the most elusive tensions but couldn’t get them all in a day. My pain is very clever. It stays one step ahead — and isn’t going without a fight.
My left shoulder is where I house all of my women. Mothers. Former lovers. Unfulfilled desires. Disappointments. Anger. Battles I didn’t win. Betrayals. Devastating break-ups.
As I approach my 41st birthday, my shoulder has been demanding release of this burden (notice I didn’t say “crying”. She’s not that kind of shoulder.)
By nature, my left shoulder is the one who carries my shield. The one who protects my heart. The one who curls forward in defense when anyone approaches without a welcome.
She is the fierce, unrelenting feminine. Amazon. Warrior. The one who will fight to the death.
But she’s tired. Very, very tired.
I joke that this shoulder is the same one stabbed clean through during a war/barfight/joust. I still carry what looks like a bruised scar, the point of exit right next to my shoulder blade. And when I suffer a fresh sting, that point feels like the blazing letter of a branding iron.
Our bodies carry the stories of our lives. She is the elephant of memories — and will lumber along with those burdens until the day we drop this form. That’s how faithful she is to us.
Except our bodies naturally want to be well.
I adore my body — and faithful in return by releasing what nails my muscles to a stamped timeline. What kind of healer would I be if I didn’t?
It took me years to learn — but it’s easy to follow this map. All we need to do is listen and be aware of our pain rather than ignore it — then take conscious action to heal what keeps us in bondage.
Action such as: massage, Reiki, craniosacral (any non-verbal healing modality), talk therapy, writing it out, walking, praying, confronting the one who hurt. Naming the lovers, one by one.
It’s a very personal path, this one of healing. It only works when you approach your body with patience, love and lots of integrity. Our bodies are primed for healing. They dig a harmonious existence. They want to be free.
And she will continue to ask you — or demand, if it’s my left shoulder — to release her from the prison of painful injuries.
We’re not meant to live in pain. Our bodies are not meant to be the whipping posts of regret. They house the Spirit, the Divine temple. They are walking manifestations of the All-That-Is (my new favorite word for G-d).
Which makes me all the more eager to feel life with a lighthearted, happy shoulder.
