The Power of a Number

Summer is here! The sun is out and the swimsuits are on. It is the time of year when we, more than ever, assess and judge the physical containers in which we live and experience our lives – our bodies. Gyms are joined and tanning becomes a priority. The heat is, quite literally, on.    

I recently went in for my yearly physical. I was weighed, examined, and checked. I was asked about my food and exercise habits as well as how much alcohol and prescription medication I consume. We reviewed my previous lab results. I was impressed by how many numbers these medical professionals were gathering, reviewing, and recording. To my doctor, each number was a piece of a puzzle that when put together, represented my physical health. As I recall her scanning my chart, I imagine her taking each piece of information and fitting it with the next one to construct a complete picture of my body. So many pieces to make the image whole. Each number counted. I, however, was only familiar with one number – my weight. The other numbers were foreign and easily forgotten. But my weight I know. That is the number that holds power.

In American society, numbers hold power. From age to the amount of money in your bank account, we allow numbers to represent us- our character, our identity, our worth. Weight is one such number. We use our weight, to define WHO WE ARE. Yet, as I was reminded, my weight, even my body, is just one piece of the puzzle. We have been tricked to believe that it is the body’s responsibility to make us happy, successful, attractive, loveable, and the list goes on and on. But as I take a step back, I realize that it is just one part of me. My body does not decide my personality, values, spirituality, sense of humor, or personal beliefs.  Rather, my body is the physical home of all that I am. It does not define who I am, it is the vessel through which who I am is expressed. My senses allow me to experience the beauty of the world, my brain enables me to process and ponder life’s mysteries, my mouth facilitates conversation and connection with those around me, and my arms let me express my love and care through sharing a hug with those I love. Our bodies do so much for us, why do we expect them to do more? Why do we oppress our bodies with the expectation of defining us rather than merely allowing them to fulfill their purpose of facilitating life and the expression of who we are?

Each one of us is wonderfully unique, not one of us without distinctive quirks and eccentricities.  What a loss if we allow focus on the size and shape of our physical containers to inhibit us from celebrating and sharing the incredible essence of who we are! I am who I am regardless of whether of not my body is the culturally sanctioned size or if my skin is the “right” sun-kissed shade of tan. A number does not determine my worth. Therefore, I invite you to join me this summer season in leaving the numbers behind and offering gratitude and kindness to the physical part of self rather than scrutiny and critique. We are all more than a number.

I Choose Me

As I open this blog, I find myself searching for how to begin. There are many things on my heart and mind, yet, which do I pick? I consider the aspects of life that provoke my mind, the people who touch my heart, and the actions and choices that inspire me to do and be more. Along that stream of thought, I am incited to share about a particular type of action that arouses my admiration and respect.

Within the last several years, I have had the honor of being on the listening end of various “storytimes,” as I like to call them. These storytimes are when another human being shares with me what is truly going on in their world. Without fluff or preamble, they carefully unwrap the messy package we call life. We each have our own package or story. Each story is unique, beautiful, and epic in its own way. Most often, we keep our stories wrapped in lovely paper, tied with an accent bow. We carry it around with us wherever we go. Some days, our paper is straight and tight with the bow perfectly done. Other days, the bow is tattered and the wrapping is barely holding together.

Storytime is when the wrapping comes off; little by little, the contents of the owner’s experience is revealed.  Beneath the paper and bow, lies the unaltered truth. To tell one’s story, as it truly is underneath the wrapping, is to be vulnerable. Brené Brown, a renowned researcher and expert on vulnerability, writes, “Vulnerability is about showing up and being seen.” This choice, to show up and been seen, is a strength at which I marvel and aspire. The choice to reveal, to share, to be vulnerable, is to defy society and often even one’s own sense of judgment in order to choose self. In this sacred moment, to choose self is to acknowledge, honor, and accept one’s true self rather than to hold up the mask of the put together self that the world demands.

In a culture that tells me that I can handle anything, to pull myself up by my bootstraps, to “just deal with it,” or that I “should be over it by now,” it takes all the humility and courage I can muster to not avoid or cover up the messy parts of my story. If I share the whole story, I will reveal imperfection and needs that somewhere along the line, I was told I should not have. Yet, to be human is to need. We all need connection, love, and a sense of belonging. It is this process of engaging and sharing self that I find precious and inspiring. It is a beautiful, and often painful, part of being human. But oh so rewarding and fulfilling! It is a gateway to true life. It is the choice to live, to engage, to transform.