Listening to our Bodies

Embodiment.

That was the theme for the final day of the Seabeck Christian Family Camp where I was presenting a week-long program on “Life as Pilgrimage.” I found myself repeating throughout the week that the purpose of my teaching was not to get everyone to ride their bike 4,000 miles as I had done, but to share what I learned about life from the pilgrimages I have taken.

Everest Base Camp

At this point I have completed three pilgrimage plus a cycling trek to Everest Base Camp and will be leaving on my fourth pilgrimage in less then three weeks to walk the 500-mile Camino Frances.

On day one I basically set the stage for the transformation process that happens on a pilgrimage. Days two through five were dedicated to four practices that shift our lives toward a pilgrim orientation.

The practices I named were intention, trust, receptivity and embodiment. Today I want to explore the practice of embodiment in this blog.

One of the things that a pilgrimage teaches us is “embodiment” or said another way, “listening to the wisdom of our bodies.” This is the difference between a vacation built around gas-powered vehicles (cars, buses, trains and planes) and a pilgrimage powered by our bodies. While anything can happen on a gas-powered vacation, most people count on the reliability of their vehicles to get them where they want when they want.

That is much less true for pilgrimages powered by our bodies. Even well-trained athletes and seasoned pilgrims discover very quickly that plans take a back seat to their bodies.

Rainstorm in the Nevada Desert, 2011

This is one of the reasons that many pilgrims don’t make overnight reservations more than two days out. In fact, on my first pilgrimage I got into the practice of thinking about overnight accommodations about mid-afternoon each day. While most days I ended up at the destination I expected to that morning, I had many days when I either cut my miles short because of muscle fatigue, inclement weather or unexpected detours. But I had just as many days where I blew through a planned destination because my legs were pumping hard or a tailwind lifted me all day.

But, again, one of the things pilgrimages teach us is how to listen to our bodies. I think this is important because in our society we often treat our bodies like machines—working well enough to be able to function in this economic system, but not so well that we yearn to escape the “cog in the machine” routine required of us to function in this society.

What I have discovered is that an embodied spirituality requires us to honor both our limits as well as our capacities. I want to reinforce this. An embodied spirituality does not just get us to acknowledge our limits, but also to discover our capacities.

I have a reputation for engaging in challenging physical adventures. Every so often, especially as I have gotten older, people have told me that I don’t need to push myself physically so hard. I always find it a strange comment because my body actually aches to climb a mountain, or trudge through a foot of new powdery snow in the winter.

We have a strange relationship with the body in our society. I doubt we would ever tell a singer not to go for the high notes or a dancer to scale back their leaps or a painter to tone down their colors. But it’s as if the puritan influence that says “spirit good, body bad” still has its grip of shame on us. Our bodies are actually capable of unbelievable capacity when we take the time to nurture them, train them and feed their lusty desires. I remember when I returned from my 4,000-mile pilgrimage to my work as a minister sitting behind a computer, in meetings or in car seat. My body literally cried out, “Why aren’t we riding 65 miles again today?” It was not ambition; it was just what my body wanted. Limits and capacity.

On the other hand, I have seen the underbelly of the mechanistic philosophy that sees the body as a machine. One of the most painful experiences I had as a minister and hospice counselor was seeing dying patients who were going to “fight the good fight” all the way to the end. They believed that death was the enemy. They couldn’t conquer death, but they were damn well going to try to cheat it.

A couple of these cases made me sad. They made me sad because rather than ending their lives with the quality of grace, peace and contentment emanating from their bodies they fought like boxers who refused to go down for the count. What was worse was seeing family members wanting permission to let their loved one “let go” but knowing their encouragement would have been read as “giving up.” Limits and capacity.

All of this is to say that we have a culture that struggles with what I would call an embodied spirituality. At times we do not know how to honor the limits of our bodies and, at other times, we do not give ourselves enough permission to explore the full capacity of our bodies. The structure of our economy requires us to exceed our limits sometimes and never discover our capacity at other times.

You do not have to go on a pilgrimage to develop an embodied spirituality. But pilgrimages often teach us lessons in a few weeks that otherwise can take a lifetime to learn.

Nothing like a mountain to expose our limits and reveal our capacities. Nothing like a challenge to force us to see ourselves as we actually are.

Brian Heron

Cultural Innovator and Spiritual Pilgrim