In this moment, my body is perfect.
I don't mean the conventional, societal definition of "perfect," meaning without flaws. What are flaws but flashes of judgmental thought that seem to reference an object? Where do those thoughts come from? What even is a flaw? Who decides what does and does not qualify for that label? No, I mean "perfect" in the sense that my body is exactly as it is.
There is no hair out of place, because the hair is in the place where it is. Every roll, fold, and curve is ideal, because it is as it is right now. The creaky joints are hosting waves of heat, then a little pressure, and all of a sudden popping and cracking to release all that energy. The injured finger of my left hand is alive with tight tingles, contractions and pulls, and zings of pure sensation; then, just as quickly, it is quiet. My gut churns, gurgles, and burbles as it automatically processes the meal I’ve just eaten, extracting what it needs without any involvement from anyone. The heart beats itself. The lungs empty and fill themselves. And there is a sense of awe here as I rest in Now.
Without the comparative burdens of remembered past and imaginary future, my body must always be perfect as it is, because it is. At any size, any shape, any condition, any state of health, it is a biological masterpiece; a miraculous, one-of-a-kind expression of Life itself. The only thing that could possibly distort the fundamental truth of that is the nebulous, passing vapor of thought that is somehow believed. Perhaps the only reason this body even seems to be "mine" at all is a sense of learned ownership and perceived physical boundaries. But even those things begin to break down quite quickly upon scrutiny and close examination of the moment.
So, I invite you to look at yourself right this moment. Is your body perfect just as it is, regardless of what thought has to say?