when you say fitness builds confidence, people generally equate that with brute strength.
the more muscle i have, the more i can keep myself safe. and yeah, that's one definition of confidence. it's the always-on-the-defensive outlook. how can i protect myself, can i be big and bad and scary enough to the predators, weirdos and nasty fuckers that surround me? in the words of beth dutton, we all wish we were the bigger bear.
but what about confidence as a means to create?
what if confidence didn't need to mean keeping yourself safe, but keeping yourself fluid, and alive, and creative? isn't that also confidence of a different kind? i find myself becoming stronger and more confident not because my body looks a certain way or because my muscles become defined, but because of secondary aspects like knowing for how long i can hold a plank or that i can flow in certain ways that to my own inner eye feel attractive and good.
a magic of a different kind which i, alone, am capable of creating.
i find the more i move, the more my body wants to move. i've been feeling a pull again toward aerial yoga, something i haven't done in years. i've been experimenting with pole dancing. been doing a more regular workout and enjoying the little challenged that arise. i love to move, and it shows in little flourishes and bows in my body when i cross the street or step off the bus.
still. i wouldn't say i'm particularly dangerous in the sense of brute strength. it's not something i've ever focused on, or indeed, something that aligns with my values and core. there is, though, a kind of danger that comes with confidence. i wasn't always confident. in fact, for quite a long time, i really didn't like my body very much. you know, classics of youth, focusing too much on what i perceived as wrong.
i still do, occasionally, snag myself on that, though for the most part, i'm pouring my energy into this addictive thing that is movement. seeing what my body can do, how it can support me, how i can rely on it. and most of all, strengthening the bridge between two worlds - the up here and the down there - so that someday in the future, i no longer talk like this.
my body supported me. so did my friend. my community. my chair. all these other swell, external things. it's not "my body" without it being myself, and i don't think persisting in this differentiation is healthy.
been thinking about how, when we become ill, we talk in terms of differentiation. like our body is failing us. like we (as in, the thinking minds trapped inside these ailing bodies) are fighting on despite the body. that can't go well for us. being more than our physical bodies never meant forsaking them entirely. you are more than just your left foot, but you are also your left foot.
guess i'm not there yet, but a lot closer than i once was. right now, i'm in love with this ongoing rite of discovery. so caught up in seeing what i can do, where the limits of my self show up. what happens if i repeat a movement correctly enough times, how my soul gets to flow and loosen when my muscles warm up.
i thought once grace was the antonym of strength, but i see now they're intertwined. that beautiful movement implies the strength to support it, that being harmless does not make me graceful, but weak. that the more i pour into my health, the more it comes back out into the world that surrounds me.
so i pour.
don't forget it's tuesday :) i think. isn't it, 
i find myself sitting and nourishing. embracing the (almost) quiet.
i couldn't believe how insanely good this cover was. i was also quite touched by the great outpouring of love and support in the comments for jbp's recovery. i don't really pray. i don't really resonate with everything he now stands for, but i certainly do understand the tremendous love and gratitude for all the help that man's been down the years to so many.
i will find a way.
