A Habitat Conservation Plan for Your Body

Rev. Liz Mirante opened her talk on Sunday by admitting something many of us can probably relate to: accepting our bodies as they are isn’t always easy.

So what does Sacred Embodiment, September’s theme, mean in the context of Science of Mind? This week, we explored our personal inner world, what Rev. Liz called our “inner habitat.”

Backyard habitat

When I think of habitat, I think about my backyard. My partner and I have been very intentional about making our yard habitat-friendly. We plant natives, make sure there’s water, and provide places for birds and other creatures to find food, shelter, and protection from predators. In our urban environment, a healthy habitat doesn’t just happen; it must be cultivated, so we actively create the conditions that support it.

When Rev. Liz mentioned ‘habitat’ in the context of our bodies, I tried to apply this thinking to how I care for myself physically. Do I intentionally cultivate a healthy habitat internally? Am I creating the conditions my body needs to thrive, feel safe, and work well on my behalf? Am I listening?

And maybe, just as importantly: what do I tell it? Are the messages I send my body consistent with what I say I want for it? (If I'm honest, no... I seriously asked myself this question on Monday…).

So, how am I caring for my inner habitat, and how can I do better?

Where Our Beliefs Come From

Rev. Liz shared three places where many of us picked up beliefs about our bodies: religion, family, and culture. She elaborated.

Historically, Western religion has done a pretty good job of separating the physical from the sacred. Interpretations of sacred texts often associate the body and its needs with impurity or sin, while the spiritual is somehow separate from — and better than — our physical selves. Layer on the idea that we must also be good enough to earn “God’s acceptance,” and it’s easy to see how that might affect our relationships with our bodies. And each other.

Then there’s family.

Some families teach us to push through illness. Some don’t talk about illness at all. Some place a lot of value on athleticism, appearance, or weight. Rev. Liz talked about growing up in a family where the boys were the athletes while she saw herself as uncoordinated. Her response was essentially: if my body can’t do those things, I’ll be smart instead. And she got very good at being smart.

These messages don’t typically arrive as explicit instructions. We observe and absorb them. As children, we have no idea we do this, nor do we ask if what we're deciding is something we want driving us for the next 50, 60, or more years.

And then there’s culture, which keeps moving the goalposts.

Depending on when you grew up, the ideal woman may have been the voluptuous bodies in Rubens’ 17^th-century paintings, or 1960s Twiggy-thin, the “heroin chic” of the 1990s, or for men in particular, almost always, muscular and cut. Now we’re surrounded by anti-aging messages, and as Rev. Liz noted, images of people who apparently intend to run marathons into their 90s.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with wanting to be healthy, strong, or active as we age. The problem, as Rev. Liz pointed out, is when those aspirations layer over an existing belief that our current body somehow isn’t acceptable.

And now more than ever, we’re disconnecting from our bodies, living more in our heads, with less real-life social interaction. During COVID, especially, we had less physical connection. Rev. Liz suggested that when we’re not paying attention to what’s happening in our bodies, we lose an important pause between stimulus and response. We react instead of respond.

What Kind of Habitat Are We Creating?

This is where Science of Mind becomes especially relevant.

We talk all the time about the creative nature of thought and the idea that what we consistently give our attention to matters. So what happens when the running commentary we direct toward our own bodies is criticism?

Important note: That doesn’t mean blaming ourselves for illness or deciding we somehow “thought wrong” and caused whatever is happening in our bodies. Rev. Liz specifically acknowledged that unfortunate interpretation of Religious Science. It does, however, mean getting curious about the habitat we’re creating with our habitual thoughts.

Because our philosophy also says something much more fundamental: we are God in form. Our physical selves are a Divine expression of the thing itself.

Rev. Liz drew from Elizabeth Lesser, co-founder of the Omega Institute, who describes us similarly: we are living instruments of the Divine, here to express joy, healing, and growth. Spirit isn’t somewhere outside us waiting for us to transcend our physical selves. It is expressed through them. If we really believe that, then caring for our bodies isn’t separate from spiritual practice.

It is spiritual practice.

A Habitat Conservation Plan

Rev. Liz then brought in a wonderful piece of her own family history.

Her family managed timberland near Mount Rainier for nearly 100 years. As environmental regulations became more complex, many small timber owners couldn’t afford to keep up and sold their land, often to developers. Her brother saw where things were heading and worked with others to create what she described as the first habitat conservation plan for a forest in Washington. Part of the plan created a corridor so then-endangered spotted owls could move between habitats rather than becoming isolated.

That gave her an idea: maybe our bodies need habitat conservation plans, too.

Using several of Elizabeth Lesser’s “laws of healing,” she offered some places to start (and you can watch her talk for all the details here).

What we love, we care for. If I want to change something about my body, but underneath that desire is dislike or rejection of the body I have now, that desired change still lies on top of rejection.

What would happen if we started somewhere else?

Rev. Liz talked about how much her knees hurt much of the time, but they still carry her up the stairs to bed every night, even though there’s a perfectly functional elevator in her house. Instead of focusing only on what hurts, she can also appreciate what those knees continue to do for her.

The same is true of the rest of us. Hearts beat. Lungs breathe. Bodies digest food, circulate blood, heal wounds, carry us places, and do countless other things without instructions.

• The body remembers. We understand much more now about the ways trauma, shame, and other experiences stay in the body. So perhaps another part of creating a healthy habitat is gentleness, particularly with the parts of ourselves we’ve learned to ignore, criticize, or push through. (If you haven’t read The Body Keeps the Score, I recommend it.)

• Separate body image from reality. Whatever we think about how our bodies look, they’re doing an extraordinary amount of work for us right now. And because what we give our attention to tends to expand in our awareness, Rev. Liz invited us to notice what is working instead of focusing exclusively on what isn’t. This is my key takeaway this week.

• Consciously inhabit your body. She called this stepping into our “animal presence.” Think of a cat stretching: completely committed to the stretch, unconcerned about who might be watching or what it looks like. Move. Stretch. Dance. Feel what it’s like to be physically present instead of observing and judging yourself from the outside.

• And listen. Our bodies are constantly giving us information. The mind and body aren’t separate systems, and the stories we tell ourselves about what’s happening affect what happens physically, too.

If you need help, consider some movement: tai chi, yoga, dance, walking, whatever gets us out of our heads and lets energy move through the body.

Say Yes to the Body We’re In

Early in her talk, Rev. Liz asked us to identify a part of our bodies we tend to criticize. She came back to that at the end, inviting us to bring attention to that part without the usual judgment.

I think that may be the real habitat conservation plan: not a new list of things our bodies need to do better, but a different relationship with the bodies we have.

Rev. Liz said: I can have a body that works the way it works right now, and I love it. I appreciate it.

Maybe that’s the practice for this week. Think of the part of your body you’re quickest to criticize, whether because of how it looks, how it feels, or what it can no longer do the way it once did.

Then notice what it does do.

And instead of asking it to be different, try thanking it.

With gratitude,

Laura