Bodies With History

This week in class, one of my students winced mid-movement. When I asked what was hurting, she laughed and said, "It would be easier to tell you what isn't."

Almost everyone in that room recognised themselves in that sentence. That's what bodies with history do.

As we move through life, our bodies collect stories. Old injuries. Long work days. Pregnancies. Grief. Surgeries. Stress. Too much sitting. Too much standing. Hormonal shifts. Burnout. Ageing. The quiet, accumulating weight of just… living.

And somewhere along the way, a lot of us started talking about those things like they're failures. Like our bodies have let us down by not moving the way they used to. I have to admit, I’m one of those, but I've been sitting with a different thought lately.

What if those aches and limits aren't proof that your body is broken - but evidence that your body has lived?

At the end of class that same day, I invited everyone to thank their bodies as they settled into Savasana. For what they'd done. For what they'd been able to do that day. It was then that I realised how rarely we feel grateful for our bodies unless they're performing well.

We thank them when they're flexible. When they're pain-free. When they do the thing we asked them to do. But bodies with history don't always perform on command. Some days movement feels heavy. Some days we need more rest, more support, more patience. Some days just getting onto the mat is the whole achievement.

And even on those days, our body is still trying. Still breathing. Still adapting. Still carrying us through, as best it can.

I think healing our relationship with movement starts with this: your body doesn't have to earn your gratitude by being perfect.

Maybe gratitude looks like appreciating the body that got you onto the mat at all. The one that keeps showing up. The one that has carried you through every version of yourself so far.

Bodies with history deserve to move. Not because they need fixing - but because they deserve care, strength, and kindness.

And maybe that changes everything.