There are bodies that seem to be meant to be rounder, fatter. They even seem holy in their plumpness, like they are in their perfect state. I would not change an ounce of them. They radiate their own beauty and also, an indescribable centeredness that seems to calm and set at ease all those around them. They are special people with their own inner gravity and grounding. They, in all their roundness, are naturally beings of light.
But, in our culture, I have also seen people, women in particular, who are not naturally or spiritually meant to be round or fat. For them, it is not a beautiful state. It is in fact a way that they exhibit that something is out of balance or missing, that they have lost a sense of themselves as beings of beauty, alive and glowing. Instead, their fatness bogs them down, covers them over in something else, more often something hard to define that has slowly crept over them causing such discomforts as a growing sluggishness or loss of their natural energy, a sense of living in a shadow, despair, or even depression, a lingering self-doubt or a loss of self-confidence even when they are brilliant thinkers, a disconnect from the true essence of themselves, even self-loathing.
There is a sense of being forgotten, either by others or by themselves or a sense of needing insulation, protection, shelter inside a layer of dullness or fat against the world. It can exhibit itself in a subtle way or in an obese way. But a woman in this state of unnaturalness in her own body is always uncomfortable in herself. She is missing her light.
I have had to wonder long and hard about myself when I have lost my self, my body, in such a state at times in my life. For me, it has felt like a dead place, a stuck place. I can point from there to some lighter, freer place I used to be, but it is like I cannot move, like my feet are embedded in a cement when I am in that dreary world, my energy is disconnected, while I watch my life moving in increments on and away from me. In a way, it is a place where I've arrived when I've given up. Too much went wrong, too many disappointments, I'd wandered too deep in the muck of my problems and found myself mired in it and too tired to keep trying so very very hard. Too too tired to try at all.
So, sometimes, maybe, we have to give up. Hit bottom. And then as our feet touch the final bedrock of ourselves, or of the state we've arrived in, we know this is it. This is the bottom. We can rest there awhile. We can stay there. It is almost comforting. We are so exhausted. We don't have to worry anymore. We have gone to the bottom of ourselves.
Which may not be such a bad thing. Maybe it is a process. An extreme process perhaps. One we are often warned to avoid. But because so many of us go there (in our own way, and for one person, that might be just a dulling down, a loss of vitality, for another it will show up as a twenty pound disconnect from their life force, while for still another, as a hundred pound one) perhaps it has a wisdom to offer us. We see our heavy dense self and in the weight of all that, we find the light that will lead us out. Or the reason, perhaps, why we don't want to come out.
For some people, it is the loss of a sense of being loved, either by themselves or others or maybe both. For some it is sex that drives them there, fear of sex (yes, it is still a place of great confusion and/or anxiety for many people and weight is a way to hide from sex) or disappointment in sex. For another person, it is loss. In their insulation, they are comforted from feeling what is unbearable to feel. There are many reasons, even a reason as simple as comfort. Did food and drink comfort you when nothing and no one else did? Comfort is a powerful substance.
There are many reasons we find ourselves in such a state. Some are conscious. We know what they are. Others evade us. They hide and play games with us.
Do you know how you got here? What are your stories? All of them are revealing and healing and hold keys, I believe, to opening the way back to our light.
-bbffair
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