Yesterday, I had a dental visit.
It wasn’t anything serious,
but it brought my attention back to the body in a very direct way.
There is something I began to notice.
For much of our lives,
when the body feels “fine”,
we don’t think much about it.
We move through our days,
focused on what needs to be done,
what needs to be managed,
what needs to be solved.
The body quietly keeps up.
But it also keeps record.
Small tensions.
Minor discomforts.
Things we postpone,
thinking we will come back to them later.
Over time,
these don’t disappear.
They settle,
accumulate,
and wait.
Until one day,
the body asks to be noticed.
Not as a problem,
but as a signal.
A pause.
A moment to return.
This experience didn’t feel negative.
If anything,
it felt like a reminder.
That care doesn’t need to begin
when something is wrong.
It can begin much earlier.
In small ways.
Consistent ways.
Quiet ways.
Listening a little sooner.
Responding a little more gently.
Not out of urgency,
but out of respect for the body that carries us.
Perhaps this is what it means to return —
not when we have to,
but when we can.