We are not our body

At the beginning of this school year, my daughter decided to open her new English book to a random page… and she came across a poem by Marilyn Nelson titled "Not My Bones".

The poem speaks clearly about the fact that we are not our flesh, our bones, our body. That the body merely temporarily houses our soul. That we are energy that flows freely and is not imprisoned in a bony shell.

I was impressed by the fact that someone had made sure to include a poem like that in an English textbook. I thought that the world was indeed more ready now to acknowledge its true nature. On the other hand, I was not at all surprised when later in class, when they got to this section, the teacher skipped the poem as though it didn't even exist. I tried to discern (with my imagination and intuition as my only weapons) her possible motives for doing so. Did it not resonate with her beliefs? Did she think it was not appropriate for young teenagers? Did she consider them not mature enough to comprehend it? Was she having trouble comprehending it herself?

Whatever the reason, the truth is that I didn't really understand it either, so how could I ever judge her? Actually, I did get it, but I didn't comprehend it. I understood and agreed theoretically with everything it said, but I couldn't feel it with my soul, I couldn't hear it flowing through my veins just like an unhampered truth.

Until recently that is, when at some point, as I was lost in my thoughts, wandering through labyrinthine mental paths, I had an aha moment: "We are not our body!" And this time I fully understood it. Our soul needs a human shell, a vehicle, to enable it to take a physical form and to move and transmute in this material world. So before it incarnates, it chooses the body that will accommodate it. The choice is not made by chance, even the form and shape of the body serve a purpose. It's all about which lessons the soul has decided to take on in this life. So, what kind of body one will have, is chosen based on the soul's needs and aspirations. The soul always chooses wisely, even if we forget all about it once we incarnate and find ourselves inside this body.

It is exactly the same as when we are choosing a car. Some people choose a very small car because what matters to them is to be able to park easily, while others need a big car because they have a wife/a husband and four children. And a dog. Another wants a convertible to enhance his charms and someone else can't make do without his pickup truck. So as you can see, literally and figuratively, one's road determines the type of vehicle one chooses.

And as long as the vehicle is still new and shiny, all is well. But at some point, it may get a scratch or a dent. Or it may fall victim to muddy rain and become like a case of "dirt chicken pox". Or the inside might get filled with crumbs and sesame seeds from the bagel you chewed on the way to work. Okay, it happens. So? Besides those who are a little too obsessed with their car, if your car is dirty, or has a broken mirror, is that capable of shattering your self-esteem and self-respect? Does it make you feel that you are less, smaller, not enough? Probably not. You may be upset, especially about the very first damage, but after a while, you forget about it. You might not even pay attention, because, after all, you won't sit around and cry over sheet metal. You might even amuse yourself with your car's mess and sketch a little smile on its dusty window. But you certainly won't have your edifice of existence shattered if your vehicle isn't in the best possible condition. If it isn't aligned to perfection. After all, what matters is that it can shuttle you back and forth to home, work, shopping, rides, and wherever else your soul yearns to go...

And as simply as that, so easily and naturally, we witness the separation of the vehicle from the soul. For your vehicle goes wherever your soul yearns to go, embarking on any roads, any experiences you wish. The vehicle is one thing, the soul is another. Clearly.

So if our body is also a vehicle, why do we still persist in this torturous identification of ourselves with the body? Why do we forget that for some reason we chose it, as it is? Or why can't we accept that maybe somewhere along the way it got a little crushed but that it doesn't really matter, all that matters is that it "rolls" or that we'll fix it as soon as possible? Why does the body's state affect the way we feel about ourselves?

Of course, just like with our car, if we don't take care of it, it will naturally let us down at some point. How can we expect it to move if we don't put fuel in it? How can we expect to optimize the engine's performance if we don't choose the best or most appropriate fuel? How can we expect it to remain in good condition if we don't have it serviced? How can we expect it to be safe and stable while driving if we don't change its worn tires? However, if it gets dirty or scratched, our world won't come crashing down.

So what if we start our day with the affirmation that we are not our body? What will happen if we manage to make that disidentification? What reflection will be mirrored in our eyes and other people's eyes as well, when there are no more deceptive reflections? What will the world be like if we read to our children - and not just to them - the poem "Not my Bones" instead of skipping it as though it doesn't even exist?