Imz Gets it Done

Dec 6

Yesterday, I worked out and took a cold shower in the morning. I loved the person I was yesterday fully. I felt strong, and when I was under the cold rain my energy exploded– I was yelling, laughing, and bearing the uncomfortability with a gaiety that cold showers bring about in me. Taking cold showers, accepting the freezing and behaving like it’s nothing, makes me feel capable. Physiologically it wakes my body up, and sends energy through out, and I feel unencumbered by any fog that wants to ‘rain on my parade’ for the rest of the day because, I took a cold shower and that’s hard.

Today, I woke up late and took a hot bath. After getting up, I found it harder to love myself because of the immense dissatisfaction I feel when waking up late. If time was anything valuable, like say, money, I left plenty on the table. So after eating my regularly light breakfast of sunflower butter, an apple, a banana, and a slice of toast, I remedied this dissatisfaction and broke down the unimplored and uninvited stress now upon my mind-body with the decoupling ritual that is, the hot bath.

Normally, I would have hesitated a bit more before stopping the drain, and turning the faucet handle all the way left. Baths can be time intensive, use a lot of water, and I am wary of indulging too much because I know my own soul. However, in the spirit of moderation, and knowing I took a relatively short shower yesterday and a very-cold one at that, I loosened the leash a little, with the intention I needed to ground myself. I believe this was an act of genuine self-care, and I came out of it with insights I am grateful for.

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The greys, the blues, the light, a soft white from the overcast weather outside, added to the calm, to the pool of hot water.

The first note of alleviation is also the temperature check, putting one foot in the water.

As I lay there, my mind can wander frictionlessly. My body can release the strain my nervous system didn’t fully recognize it created, like unconscious shallow breaths going unnoticed until meditation. Peace was mine to breathe in completely, for the time I was there. This is when the first reflections came.

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I want to be big. I was looking at the muscles around my hip, and my legs, and I simply wanted this body to be larger, carry more mass, and take more space, elegauntly, if you will. Yesterday I was on day 47 of SR, and any feminine urge to stay physically small was on the flipside of what I was feeling. My masculinity had begun to really take hold the day prior when working out felt like my only option to move the energy my streak accumulated.

The next thought I had was a vast revelation, one you’ve heard before, but also one you have to feel to really acknowledge, understand, and automatically internalize. It was that, the body is a temple. Think about it; it’s given to us by a higher power, evolution, whatever you want to say, and it’s a living being in of itself separate from our conscience. It’s ours to take care of, and we have full control and power over what we choose to do with it. I thought about how I could strengthen my temple through rigorous exercise, and I could respect it and replenish it positively with good food, and keep this body beautiful with good hygiene. On a sidenote, there is something to say about our mental diets, but I would like to narrow our discussion to the physical nature of the body.

I guess you could say I came away with a deep reverance for this vessel, we call the body, that I am bestowed and entrusted with. I plan to do my best for it, and I believe the rewards will be great, God willing. I suppose I am really starting to care for myself, like I would love for a loved one of mine to care for themself. May Allah keep us all in good health.

Pivoting a little bit into the sexual, or the natural tendency or inclination between the sexes, when I think of women in regards to my body, the thought makes me want to raz&jaz for lack of better term, my entire muscular anatomy. I imagine a painting of a male body moving with rapidity and pulling on cables or heavy weight caught in the darkness so all one sees is his back with lines and deep shadows, denoting shape & dedication. Upon closer look his face is snarling, a semi psychotic smile even. He works fervently, pulling and pushing some heavy object hidden to us, working to break his muscles down over and over and only succeeding in making them fuller and more pronounced. Perhaps he is bent over forward doing a lat-pull down and a sliver of his expression is all we see, connoting the personality behind the feeling I’m attempting to describe.

That’s what I mean when I say raz&jaz. I want to raz&jaz the hell out of my body with the aim of stark bulk and broadness, to be a gymnopedie of masculinity in the flesh for, even just the thought of, women. It’s crazy, and it’s completely the way of being, naturally for man. It’s one way I could describe what testosterone at a regular level should feel like, in my opinion.