I was on my annual jog the other day (“jog” being a euphemism for hyperventilate/sweat/trigger IT band distress), listening to music delivered directly into my brain via iPod (I am so not over this yet. How AWESOME music and headphones are. Anyone?), and I suddenly had a Deep Teenager moment.
I was listening to Get Lucky, by Pharrell Williams and Daft Punk. You know,
We’re up all night to the sun
We’re up all night to get some
We’re up all night for good fun
We’re up all night to get lucky
First, I was transported back to a former age (I won’t say how old), when I stayed up all night to get lucky. Remember what that is like? The fervor, the energy. You are running on Universe Juice, the thing at the heart of Creation, the drive to create and co-create and procreate, which is also known as the drive to make out with someone new and cute for hours.
That juice is so powerful it will keep you awake all night long without benefit of substances. It’s not even the making out itself that is so awesome, that makes it so worth staying up all night (because let’s be honest, sometimes the making-out, even with someone terrifically cute, is deeply disappointing). Whether or not you end up making out with the cutie is kind of beside the point (though I didn’t feel that way back then—I am a Myers Briggs J after all).
What makes it worth staying up all night is the feeling of being SO alive, of being part of the great fabric of Creation, of your ego-boundaries falling away and the One-Love amazing possibility of everything.
So fast-forward to the other day. I jogged (sort of) and danced (badly), fist-punching the air and singing (also badly—who sings well with ear buds in, I ask you?) along with Pharrell,
We’ve come too far to give up who we are
So let’s raise the bar, and our cups to the stars
I raised my cup to the stars. I thought to myself, “yesterday I was in a CT scan machine while techs looked for cancer, and then I was holding a barf bag to my face while they took out the IV. Today the sun is shining and I am still cancer-free and everyone is beautiful, and the universe is a fucking amazing place, and I am turning 44 on Monday and this middle aged body is JOGGING—that is what this awesome body that has been through 2 full-term pregnancies and 2 miscarriages and cancer and so many other things is DOING today, jogging in the sunshine and Can You Believe It?”
It was a Moment. I want you to know, whatever you’re going through right now, if you’re heart is broken or you’re looking endlessly for work, or you’re drinking the CT contrast dye or the last glass in the bottle of wine you opened for yourself, or you’re mad as hell or you’re scared as hell or you’re lonely as hell—this Moment is waiting for you, sometime. The Moment when you put your ear buds in and dance like a maniac and the ego boundaries fall away, and you know the truth, the REAL truth, which is that:
We’re all impossibly gorgeous. Even you. Yes you!
The universe is a fucking amazing place.
You’ve come too far to give up who you are.
Your body, whatever life or aging or pregnancy or cancer or drinking or drugging or the one who hurt you or that horrible STD or anything or anyone else have taken away from it, this body is the vehicle for your sweet, sweet spirit. Thank your Creator, by whatever name She goes by, for your amazing, resilient body, and then do something really awesome for it. Jogging. Ice cream. Massage. Make out with yourself, in other words. Stay up all night till the sun. You don’t have to lose 7 pounds before you do it, or fix one damn thing.
I wish I could have stayed in that Deep Teenage moment. I wish the ego-boundaries didn’t always come back up, crashing into place like grating metal door of the county slammer. I wish the vulnerability and joy didn’t always ebb away. I’d like to think I will never say another mean thing about my body again, or that I will be able to seize and never let go of that sexy Love for All Humanity. But that’s the thing about a Moment: it’s a moment.
And there will always be another one.