as if a beacon of light to rescue me from my self-imposed by life experience workout pity party, so appeared in my life the naked body of seattle mayor greg nickels. he was working out at my gym this morning, or more precisely, since he's a bigwig, his gym. he is stout/husky/purposeful/imprecise in his workout style, a real plus size role model for humanity, a near hairless bear. since he's a democrat, i am not about to disparage him in any way, except that later in the locker room his swimsuit was revealed to be so incredibly tacky i threw up on it and it didn't affect the look. it is taking all my strength to not describe his genitals, which i swear i was not attempting to see. i was simply in the shower area when he got back from the pool and well, i looked.
i write stories on my body, almost all of which have been told to me. that i am weak. that i am unlovable. untouchable. that i am dirty. fucked up. damaged. they are stories. and i repeat them and i am in them. until today when i am not. today i write no story. i simply am aware of being. i am aware of stories. i stop telling. i stop listening. i am simply awareness. changing. moving. a body historically accurate yet undefined. a body impermanent.
i saw the mayor's face and knew it was him. i never thought of his body before. he was just a head and a suit. maybe shoes. i had no story about his body. no history. no assumed reality. my body can be the same. nothing predetermined. nothing assumed. my body exists. moves through space. has moved through space. has felt. can touch and be touched. can love and be loved. can see and be seen.
You are love, dammit!!
Posted by: Xtopher | April 27, 2007 at 03:34 AM