Choosing the Body That You Have
We all carry our stories in our bodies. A wrong step off a curb becomes a sprained ankle... and maybe, years later, just walking across uneven ground brings back that same startled jolt. That’s not just physical or psychological—it’s neural. These multi-layered and linked memories, emotions, and sensations are called neurotags. They live in the brain and form meaningful storylines in our minds and bodies—past, present, and anticipated future.
And then there’s the whole "grass is always greener" thing.
Delivering a new book to the world—especially one about movement and body awareness—has stirred up all kinds of bodily insecurities. I want to be zaftig: strong, curvy, muscular. But I’m in my 70s. I’m short and suddenly small-boned. Zaftig is highly unlikely. Stronger, however? That’s possible. And showing up with confidence in the able body I do have—with its glitches—inspires, and is heartened by, my yoga practice and hilly walks.
The unattainable longings versus those that are attainable (albeit challenging) start to sort themselves out when we become self-accepting enough to look honestly. Once we make even a small commitment to real self-inquiry, it gets interesting. The emotions and spirit that drive our longings begin to speak—sometimes like floodgates opening.
Seriously, I’m not going to become zaftig this year. But I am going to keep this body spirited.
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I. Why Do We Long to Be Different?
Insecurity is nearly universal. The first step is recognizing it—then learning to talk back, lovingly.
Ask yourself: Who or what taught me to feel that this version of me wasn’t enough—and when did that belief become a 'fact' in my mind that required something unattainable?
Childhood messaging from parents, family, teachers, and friends is deeply influential. And remember—they got their messages from their parents et al. These ideas are often handed down as 'facts,' internalized over time until they sound like our own thoughts. That’s another kind of neurotag—a mental track that plays as if it's truth.
I credit The Hoffman Process in my book for influencing this particular practice of naming and separating out internalized voices.
We can name those voices and choose a new response:
"Sherry, you’re looking frail."
"You need to rest—you’re not as strong as the other kids."
Uh huh. Mom! (She was awesome—with a few snags.)
And my own voice gets to say:
"Oh please. I’ve been a movement educator for decades. I trust my sense of health, strength, and appearance."
(related to Chapter 1: BPSS + Present-Moment Self)
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II. What Is a "Zaftig" in Your Life?
Longings come in many flavors. Some are attainable. Some aren’t. Some are worth the effort. Some, not so much.
Make a list of a few from each category. Try to notice how you feel when you name them. Where do they live in your body? What story do they repeat?
You might find your own version of zaftig. Be nice.
(related to Chapter 1: Pain, Perception, and the Brain)
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III. What About Persistent Pain?
Persistent pain is a particular challenge to this principle of choosing the body we have. Why would anyone choose a body that carries long-lasting discomfort?
A few thoughts here—loving yourself *because of* what you’ve had to learn through pain might be one of the ways you offer something real to someone else. A friend. A student. A child.
Or maybe pain has led you to develop other systems—your digestive health, your circulation, your breath. Maybe you’ve had time to study, reflect, teach.
It’s often said that losing one sense heightens the others. I think it’s more about focus. Yoga and meditation aren’t magic; they’re practice spaces. They give us the space for self-talk, emotional regulation, and body awareness that we can return to when things get hard.
(Chapter 2 of my book is devoted to Pain and Perception.)
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IV. What About Shapes That Are... Less Commercial?
And what about shapes? Bodies that don’t fit the image culture has sold us, or that don’t match our own longings?
I see a woman my age, full-bodied and glowing with strength, and I sometimes catch myself grieving what I imagine I lack. Someone else sees a walker, a dancer, a runner—and feels a flash of loss. These moments may be fleeting, but they’re real. They live inside us. And even when we’ve "worked on it," the ache can still flicker through. And we learn to see them coming.
Which is why the next part matters more than ever.
(related to Chapter 5: Seeing Bodies)
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V. Utilizing Gratitude
Gratitude isn’t fluff. It’s not a bypass or a platitude—it’s a remedy.
Specifically, it’s a remedy for thoughts that disparage.
Don’t get me wrong—persistent pain carries valid grief. But just as sadness and joy can coexist, grief over what we’ve lost or can no longer do can coexist with genuine gratitude for what still *is*. And sometimes, that gratitude becomes the opening for using the loss constructively.
Maybe we can’t lift, run, or stretch the way we once did. But maybe we’ve become deeply attuned to subtler systems—circulation, digestion, breath. Maybe our body has guided us into study, teaching, listening. Maybe we’ve grown more spacious in how we hold others' limitations too.
Gratitude isn’t the end of longing. But it’s often the antidote to shame.
And sometimes, it becomes the ground from which the next real step can grow.
(related to Chapter 6: Embodied Intuition & Sensory Trust)
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VI. Longings That Could Become Real
It’s not about discipline. It’s about choice.
If I long to be stronger—to the point that it takes up real space in my mind—why am I not doing the small things that would help?
Maybe because I see it as Mount Vesuvius, when it’s really baby steps.
And baby steps can only grow from trust and self-respect and bodily understanding, recognizing flow and restriction helps us to be with ourselves as we are. That’s the low hanging fruit!
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VII. Choosing the Body, Accepting the Self
It’s all a process—of recognition that comes in and out of focus—for all of us. And this bodily recognition is the clearest road to self recognition and acceptance. When we truly choose the body we have, we begin to accept the self we have, too.
(related to Chapter 6: The Inner Sense of Movement)
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This post touches on themes explored more deeply in my book, From Bodily Knowledge to Intuitive Movement: Where Physical Therapy, Yoga Therapy, and Pain Science Meet.
If you’re interested in how movement reflects the whole self—and how presence begins in the body—this book is for you.