Aside from gifts of gratitude, grace, heartwarming company, loads of leftovers and libations, and a steady stream of risky jokes, I’d say my favorite part of Thanksgiving was the gathering ‘round the table for the tradition of story – a chronicled acquisition of sentiments across generations.
Although there were only three generations present, the feeling of those elders long deceased seemed palpable in the salvaged tales of heritage, heroic war legends, great-grand motherhood and matriarchy, journeys wide and fare, and recounts of circumstances and embodied ideology that shaped the moral development -and lineage- of family, place, purpose, and passage.
My father and my young adult sons shared – in full disclosure- their boyhood tales, naughty nuances of daring teens, their risky ambition, experimentation, adventure, revolutionary visions, and even heartache. Despite a nearly 55-year gap, their stories had an uncanny similarity to them (a perk to raising kids outside the box and having an exceptionally accepting father). Their relatability and honesty have bound an even stronger code of honor and love into our bloodline.
I sat wrapped in the warmth of rich conversation, entirely enamored. I held space between grandpa and grandchildren. I was a bridge. Literally, my body was the original link that brought them together. In my body, I hold my own stories and as those surfaced throughout the evening, our anthology expanded into new volumes influenced by a feminine genre of our legacy.
Our stories are bridges.
Our bodies are bridges.
Our stories are held in our bodies.
Taking a moment to pivot:
I have dedicated my life, education, and career to finding creative, scientific, sensible, and even soulful ways of explaining the mind-body connection. For as long as I have been teaching Yoga, Somatic therapies, and Trauma-Informed care, I have been sharing an expression, “our issues are in our tissues.”
We talk a lot about how trauma and stress are stored in the body and how it effects biological, emotional, and cognitive development, behavior, relationships, and life-long health. A subject matter well-warranted, much needed, and at the cusp of initiating more progressive care rooted in prevention and healing.
However, I’d like my gratitude-filled heart to focus on the body not just as the holder of our traumas, but as the wisdom keeper and companion that also holds, what I like to call, the “Stories of our Glories”, the “Archives of our Aliveness”. Our bodies do not discriminate what part of our life they absorb – they are saturated by all of it. Every giddy laugh, every moment of awe and wonderment, every intimate connection, every time we expand through knowledge, or feel inspired by beautify or spirit, it is imprinted in our soma like the lines on our palms and the streaks of grey that run through our hair. Can we lean into these parts of our story more, instead of the tales that keep us tortured? Yes, I believe we can. Quite frankly, I believe that’s why I’m still alive. Alive, and a bridge….one passing on fortitude, not just misfortune.
I am grateful for all the chapters of my life, and the chapters in those lives that came before me, and those lives that come after me – a familial line of past, present, future lived-literature pulsing in my veins. I am grateful that my body is a book, a library, and a legacy not just a battlefield.
My body merges the coexistence of “issue in my tissues” and “stories of glory”.
In pop-psychology there is a wave of movement suggesting that to heal we need to remove our story. There is another wave that keeps folks stuck in the role of a victim or martyr. I think deep healing comes when we can step into the whole picture, embrace all our parts, and become empowered by the boot-strap hero we choose to feed. Wisdom is knowing how to shift the plot and choose our own meaning and understanding what stories are worth the honor of being told.
It’s not just what story you tell, it’s how you tell it. What is your intention? What perspective is it offering? How do you internalize it? How will you embody it (live it)? How will it be carried on (kin or purpose)?
Returning to the day of giving thanks:
One thing was clear in my observation of said storytelling – the intention was creating genuine connection. Conversations were had to learn perspective and truly understand one another, to grow, to repair, to proudly embrace well-lived lives, and to fortify unconditional belonging. What a gift.
With love,
Robin
