Good morning this morning — how is your heart today? How are your lungs? How is that good belly? This morning I have the green-and-mint tea, I have the quiet, sleeping puppy, the low candle, the songs resonating a heavy thrum in my chest. This morning I’m thinking about the ways we write our bodies, and the ways we don’t — the stories we tell repeatedly, and the stories that live underneath those, quiet, longing, hidden.
What are the body stories you’re telling yourself this morning? What are the stories still waiting to be told?