Body Work

Jasmine Wigginton

The body is a reflection.

The body does not lie.

The body holds onto things the mind attempts to quiet.

The body will let you know.

It will also try and liberate itself from the trauma that surrounds it.

Ritual

For something to become a ritual, it needs to be practiced daily.

It needs to become a part of you, a way to connect the intention of the mind with the body.

It is deep work.

Taking the spiritual, mental, and processing it into the physical.

Your body is a vessel for transformation.

cat faded.png — Therapy

“What does it mean to trust?” my therapist asked me.
My mind drew a blank.
“I do not know how to trust myself.”
She asked me to visualize the simplest parts of my day, “What can you depend on to happen daily?”
I tell her I trust my cat will wake me up every day to feed him. I trust that he will do this, as it is our morning ritual. His body is simple. When he wants to eat, he slams a plastic trash can against the wall, chews bits of the plastic, and meows loudly until his needs are met. His body craves hunger. He trusts himself. After eating, he stretches his body in the sun, soaking it into his bones.
He trusts his hunger. He trusts the sun. He trusts that he will disturb me daily to feed him, and I will. He has created a ritual.
I tell her I trust anxiety.
My body knows the sensation of tension in the neck. It understands the feeling of numbness. I have tried to counteract it with drinking, sex, and dancing. My body trusts fear.
After this conversation, I began to make note of what my body feels beyond anxiety. When I am happy my cheeks warm up and I feel high from laughter. When I am angry, my body feels numb.

Meditation

I try to detach and breathe. I hold myself accountable with affirmations.

I will be free from suffering.

I am safe from inner and outer harm.

I remember moments of loving-kindness,

when the only adult in my childhood asked, “are you ok?”

I hold on to that, clearing my mind. Centering myself and trying to become present.

The sensation after meditation is calming. My body feels light, and I can feel my breath spreading from my lungs into my entire body. I can feel my eyelids growing heavy with rest. The suffering surrounds me, but for a moment I have peace.

Altar

He walks in with a briefcase ready to heal.

Candles for the ancestors

Wine for them to drink

Palo Santo and crystals to allow space to heal and cleanse.

We are millennials escaping from our Christian upbringing and coming back to our roots.

Our ancestors. We honor them. We hear them. We pay homage to them.

As we enter this space, cleansing, renewing, and removing

We speak to our inner children. The pain they faced.

We uplift their pain, their joy, and their trauma.

We tell them we will be there for them and we burn it away.

Snakes

Drive-in movie theaters have made a comeback. We used to sit next to each other in dark buildings with reclined seats, and ample legroom. Now we sit isolated, but together in our metal vehicles. We are safe and contained.

Waiting for the film to begin and having a conversation with a new lover, he starts a conversation about snakes:

“I saw a snake, the same snake, twice over the span of five years in my grandmother’s backyard and no one believed me. I tried to tell them about the snake. They called me a liar until they saw it themselves.”

I have seen a lot of snakes. They have slithered around my body. I have always seen them but ignored their presence. They kept me company even in isolation. Often, my body will tell me when something is wrong through dreams that lead me to the pain my body tries to ignore, or through lingering thoughts and sensations that will not disappear. I have been taught to not believe myself, my body, or my intuition.

From now on when I see a snake I will call it by its name.

Body

Quarantine has required me to sit with my body. Reflecting over the way it breathes, its inflexibilities as it cracks during yoga moves, and the way it still remembers what the mind tries to hide and repress.

During the long months inside

Moving my body

Growing more flexible

Being with my breath.

Feeling the way my core burns

My body sweats

My legs falling over my head

Every Downward Dog brings the arches of my feet closer to the floor.

I have time to be present, detach, and breathe.

Spell

Stay close to your body.

Listen to what it tells you.

It has been broken up into fragments

Stretching far apart, but existing in the same space.

Place it back together.

Remember you are whole.

You were always whole.