The Practice of Honoring Your Body
Written by René Fay
Recently, on the first full day of Dharma Moon’s “Rest and Reconnect” retreat, I gave a dharma talk on engaging with one's whole self in a nuanced way. Because our internal and external conditions are not static, what is needed in one moment to create a supportive space for practice will likely be different from what was needed yesterday or last year. How can we find that goldilocks sweet spot where we’re applying enough effort, curiosity, and precision to stretch into our growth zone, but without becoming overvigilant and rigid just for the sake of pushing through?
This topic is dear to my heart because of my own struggles finding that balance. Especially after developing chronic health issues, I had to learn how to cultivate a practice that honors my well-being over the appearance of perfection. Bodies, like most other things, are imperfect, impermanent, and unpredictable, and it’s a key part of practice to respond and adjust to their changing conditions accordingly.
That evening, I started feeling rundown and awoke at 3 a.m. feeling undeniably sick. There are times when living in alignment with what we teach is no longer abstract, and in that moment I was faced with the almost binary choice of practicing what I had literally just preached, or ultimately doing the opposite. I could stay in my room to take care of myself the way I needed to, prioritizing recovery and avoiding unnecessary consequences; or I could push through in an effort to fulfill my duties, and face the inevitable fallout when no one was looking.
The timing of this sickness landing as soon as I arrived on retreat felt devastatingly inconvenient. But it was also clearly an opportunity to use this unexpected curveball to become curious and creative with my practice. I decided to stay in my room for two solid days, modified my practice for what my body actually needed, and genuinely grieved the lost community time. It was not fun. But it was the deep practice that I needed — a profound experience of equanimity in choosing to alter my practice to meet my body’s needs.
This is the hard, invisible work of practice that often feels counterintuitive when we've been taught that discipline means pushing through discomfort at the expense of one's well-being. But moving away from the surface gratification of performing perfection at great personal cost can, at times, move us closer towards personal liberation.