Day 38 Blog

Today the body took over the classroom.
I sat to meditate and ended up napping mid-scan. It wasn’t failure—it was the nervous system clocking out to run maintenance. When I woke, the message was simple: the gut is waking up.

‍

For years that place has been braced, clenched, surviving. The mind tried to run the show while the core quietly suffocated. But this afternoon I could feel peristaltic motion coming back online, as if the belly remembered how to inhale.

‍

The body has its own calendar for healing. You can’t rush it. You can only stay out of its way. So I took the day as it came—ate slowly, moved softly, listened for those inner gears starting to turn again. Each gurgle felt like language returning after exile.

‍

When the gut opens, the heart follows. Compassion leaks out before you can intellectualize it. You start feeling sorry—not in the self-pity way, but in the for-real human way—for all the times you shamed your body for being tired, hungry, reactive, emotional. It was never betraying you; it was communicating.

‍

Survival emotions are sticky. They once kept me alert, armored, “safe.” But they’re expensive habits. They burn fuel that could be creating, connecting, loving. The more the gut loosens, the less I need that old chemistry. I’m trading adrenaline for trust.

‍

So tonight I’m letting the body steer.
No heroic sits, no two-hour endurance tests—just presence, breath, food, digestion. The empire can wait while the machinery rebuilds itself.

‍

The mind makes stories.
The body just knows.