My Body is My Temple

The first time I heard someone say, 'No, I won't eat [that], my body is my temple,' it was the 70s and I was about 10 years old. I was struck by the comment, but had no idea what it meant.

Now, I think I’m starting to get it. A temple is where we worship, where we go to find peace and solace, to seek the experience of God however we define that.

I have often gotten caught up, instead, in worshipping the temple.

But lately I’ve come to understand that when I think, My body is my temple, this is not vanity.

My body is my temple in so much as it needs to be a peaceful place through which I can experience the divine. To be peaceful that way, this body needs 9 hours sleep, meditation, good food, lots of walking etc., and also the company of friends, the joy and sorrow of love, the experience of wilderness and all forms of beauty, perceived and expressed.

Seeing myself this way changes the way I look at others too. When I really get into it, I no longer see young or old, slender or fat, distinctions that are all about status and worldly power, anyway.

When I really experience my body as a temple, I get to see everyone else’s body as a temple too. And then, well, I have a really nice day.

I hope you have a nice day too.

Age

I have a reverse body image problem -- I think I look much younger and thinner than I actually do. This is okay -- it makes me happy, I walk down the street feeling good and then laugh at how different I look in a passing window than I think I do. I read somewhere that optimists tend to have a weaker grasp on reality than pessimists. But we also have more fun.

Lately, however, I occasionally notice changes in my body that even my most optimistic self cannot deny. The texture of my skin is changing, not just on my face, but on places like my legs, too. My first thought is displeasure. I have internalized the idea that this is bad, that skin should not look or feel like this.

Then I remember -- it's not just that I'm getting older: I get to get older. I have avoided death several times, even when it stared me in the face.

Getting older happens when we're lucky. And who says that my skin should look this way and not that? Surely not the man I live with, who prefers the way women look as they get older. (I didn't chose him for that, I swear, it's just a fringe benefit.)

Go see the movie The Visitor , just a gem, and fall in love with 48-year-old Hiam Abbass. We need more women like her who are not afraid of their own faces. Women who shine at any age.