I was planning on going into my office this morning, turning up the heat and holing myself up to catch up on some reading. But once I actually looked at the bookshelf in the kitchen where I keep my church books, I realized I had enough catch-up reading at home to keep me busy for a few days. And this way I don't have to change out of my yoga pants or brush the snow off the car.
So I've been reading through 50 Ways to Pray
, and when I got to the chapter on body prayers I had to take a break.
I realized that just the title of the chapter was pushing my buttons.
I was at a workshop this fall where I ended up in the body movement section, and I hated it. I knew I would, and wasn't, actually, as bad as I thought it would be, and it was
good to push into what I know is an uncomfortable area for me.
Partly, I'm a bit physically reserved. Partly, I have no reaction when the leader instructs the group to strike a pose expressing sadness. Anger. Joy.
I just.... have no response to that. Sure, I know what the appropriate response should be - I've been at enough of these to see everyone else throwing out their arms for joy, or skipping around, or curling up for sadness. And I do, actually, know what some of my physical tells are for emotions, but some of them are really, small - more like a tightening of shoulders, or a curled lip.
And then, inevitably these things seem to progress to "dancing" around the room - interacting with the others, and maybe waving scarves in the air. While listening to Loreena McKinnet or the like.
And I suppose therein lies one of my deepest irritants with the whole thing. If you want me to dance, play dance music. Maybe I'm the only one in the room who's been inside a club in the last 20 years, but I just hate the way these embodied prayer things cluster together cultural assumptions about music and movement and personal space.
I suppose, given that it is embodied, maybe it's not surprising that this is the one that pushes my buttons.
Anyway, back to reading. And a fresh pot of tea.