Mirror talk

Many years ago, as the director of a program for women starting over after a major life upheaval, I once organized a big shindig with some minor celebrities—a small group of women who had been married to Hollywood stars (men) who had left them for a newer model. Three of the gals were in Palm Beach County and I invited them to speak to our group of maybe 300 clients.

One of them was Patti Lewis, the other Cindi Landon, and I can’t remember the third, but Patti had a story to tell that had nothing to do with her ex, Jerry Lewis. The group had been speaking all over the country to women’s groups, often women who had been cast aside as had they, and whose self-esteem had admittedly taken a hit.

Patti told a story about a time in Las Vegas when, as luck would have it, she lost a crown on a front tooth the night before they were to go on. She said she moaned and cried and cursed and almost didn’t go. But she had an epiphany, not one that would embroider well on a pillow, but one that was universally true: “I am not my tooth.”

The worth of her, the sum total of her value to the world, did not rest on a missing front tooth. She mattered more than that. She kept her date with the audience, missing tooth and all. And, she used it.

My group, all happily willing to identify all their flaws, defining themselves by them even, got the message. As did I.

From that great example, I expanded on my truth and have tried, really tried, to keep it in mind as life has it’s way with my body, both through my overindulgences and surgeries and general wear and tear.

And here is my point:

Our bodies are not our selves, in spite of evidence to the contrary.

Our bodies are the package, the vessel, that carries our Self into and through the journey of this particular life on this particular planet at this particular time. You didn’t choose your package; it chose you. And then it did its job. You? You are the gift inside the package.

Some would prefer to use the term soul. Fine. I’m more attached the essence of who I am—my energy, perhaps—my spark, or my creative urge. Maybe even just my personality. That personality has in some ways changed over the years and in others it is still the same as when I was first aware.

If you get down on yourself for gained weight or wrinkles or sagging skin, or aching joints, stop, and maybe just be grateful that your package has taken you this far. Say thank you.