I stumbled across this today and I found it superbly relevant. It's sad, but it's beautiful, and ultimately a message of empowerment though I am including a trigger warning because it does touch on topics many of us deal with to cope with the struggles of our lives. I think all too often one of our greatest struggles, is that we never learned how to love ourselves. We never learned to properly appreciate that we are human, and we are good. So we spend our lives fighting desperately for someone to tell us this, when really it's something that we have to find from within.
Have a listen. What do you think?
Once my mom said to me: "Ari, why worry about how you look? Do trees ask themselves what they look like?" Trees, with their roots, trunks, branches, and leaves, are powerful symbols. As humans, we can be swayed by all the negativity in the wind of life to feel like we're just not good enough — good enough for love, for life, for ourselves, for anything.
I hope you never, ever feel that way. For a reminder that you are indeed good enough just as you are, listen to this song by Mary Lambert.
Trigger warning: Lyrics including self-harm and eating disorders
Lyrics - Body Love by Mary Lambert
I know girls who are trying to fit into the social norm like squeezing into last years prom dress.
I know girls who wear low rise, MAC eye shadow, and binge drinking
I know girls that wonder if they are disaster and sexy enough to fit in
I know girls who are fleeing bombs from the mosques of their own skin playing Russian roulette with death
Never easy to accept that our bodies are fallible and flawed
When do we draw the line?
when the knife hits the skin isn’t it the same thing as purging because we’re so obsessed with death
Some women just have more guts than others.
The funny thing is women like us don’t shoot, we swallow pills
Still wanting to be beautiful at the morgue still proceeding to put on make up
Still hoping that the mortician finds us fuckable and attractive we might as well be buried with our shoes and handbags and scarves
Girls we flirt with death every time we etch a new tally mark into our skin
I know how to slit my wrist to reveal a battlefield too
But the time has come for us to reclaim our bodies
Our bodies deserve more than to be war torn and collateral offering
This fuckdom is a pathetic means to say I only know how to exist when I am wanted.
Girls like us are hardly ever wanted, yanno?
We’re used up,
and sad and drunk
and perpetually waiting by the phone for someone to pick up and tell us that we did good.
Well, You did good.
So try this:
Take your hands over your bumpy loved body, naked, and remember the first time to ran your hands over someone with the sole purpose of learning all of them
Touch them because the light is pretty on them and because the dust in the sunlight dance the way your heart is
Touch yourself with a purpose
Your body is the most beautiful royal
Fathers and uncles are not claiming your knife anymore
Are not your razor, now put the sharpness back
Lay your hands flat and feel the surface of scarred skin.
I once touched a tree with charred limbs. The stump was still breathing but the tops were just ashy remains.
I wonder what it’s like to come back from that because sometimes I feel a forest fire erupting from my wrists
And the smoke signals sent out of them are the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.
Love your body the way your mother loved your baby feet
And brother arm wrapping shoulders and remember this is important to our worth more than who you fuck
You are worth more than a waistline
You are worth more than beer bottles displayed like drunken artifacts
You are no less valuable as a size 16 than as a size 4
You are no less valuable as a 32A than as a 36C
You are worth more than any naked body could proclaim in the shadows
More than a man’s whim or your fathers’ mistake
Your sexiness is defined by concentric circles within your wood
It is wisdom.
You are a goddamn tree stump with leaves sprouting out.