I Am Not a Body (Even When My Back Disagrees)

Happy Sunday, Friends!

Just a quick note to let you know I’ll be taking a little break this week — no classes or livestreams on Substack or Insight Timer until Tuesday, September 9th. Why? Because I’m celebrating a very important event: my birthday on September 2nd!

(Funny story —when I was a kid I used to confuse my birthday with Memorial Day. Truly. Until someone gently pointed out that the word Labor is about birth. So yes, turns out my birthday is much more aligned with Labor Day. Makes sense now... LOL.)

I hope you're easing into September with open arms and open windows. The weather this time of year can be pure magic — like the world is exhaling into something softer and more golden. May it greet you gently wherever you are.

While I’m away, remember there are so many articles here for you to dive into or revisit. And speaking of which — this week’s piece is one that feels especially timely. With my back doing the most, and my body making some strong arguments lately, I had to return to one of the deepest reminders we have:

👉 I Am Not a Body (Even When My Back Disagrees) — you can read it just below.

Sending love and deep breath energy as we walk into a new month together.

Big love,
Max 💖💫

I Am Not a Body (Even When My Back Disagrees)

Let me start with the obvious: yes, I have a body. It has all the standard issue parts. It creaks. It stretches. Sometimes it rebels. And lately, it's been staging a full-on mutiny.

A couple months ago, I threw my back out. Not a little tweak — full-on betrayal. So I went to physical therapy, did the stretches, listened to the nice man with the clipboard, and started feeling better. Then, just as I was getting back on track, diverticulitis knocked me flat for a week. And I mean flat. Once that passed — literally within days — my back went out again. It was like my body got jealous of my progress and said, "Oh no you don’t."

And that’s when I had to remind myself, again: I am not a body. I am free.

Now, before you roll your eyes and mutter something about woo woo philosophy, hear me out. I’m not saying the body doesn’t exist. I’m saying it’s not who we are. It’s not the self. And thank God for that, because if this body were my identity, we’d be in some serious psychological, spiritual, and orthopedic trouble.

Lesson 199 puts it plainly: “Freedom must be impossible as long as you perceive a body as yourself.” That line doesn’t pull punches. It exposes the trap: if we identify with the body, we identify with limitation, decay, and fear. And that identification becomes a spiritual prison.

The ego thrives on this. It wants you to believe your worth is skin-deep, your freedom is conditional, and your value is measured by how tight your jeans fit. It feeds on your obsession with appearances and aches. Because the more you believe you are the body, the less access you have to the truth: you are limitless, eternal, and already whole.

The body is not the self. It’s not even the narrator. It’s the car we’re driving. And let me tell you, mine needs an oil change, a wheel alignment, and possibly a spiritual exorcism. But even when my back throws a tantrum and I’m horizontal with a heating pad, I still remind myself: I am not a body. I am free.

When we start loosening our grip on bodily identification, something radical happens. We stop assuming pain defines us. We stop treating every wrinkle, diagnosis, or extra pound as a personal failure. We stop handing the ego the steering wheel. The mind, unhooked from the tyranny of the flesh, becomes available to something far greater. It becomes a home for peace, a channel for clarity, and a servant of freedom.

And no, this isn’t just spiritual theory. It’s practical. Every moment you remember you are not the body, you break the cycle of fear. Every time you repeat that line from Lesson 199, you break a link in the ego’s chain.

So here’s your assignment while I take a little break for my birthday (yes, it’s coming up — I’ll be 61):

Repeat after me, with or without your heating pad: I am not a body. I am free.

And then act like it. Forgive someone. Release a judgment. Let go of one of the 19,000 opinions you didn’t need anyway. That’s how the mind stretches. That’s how freedom feels.

Because you were never meant to fit into a body-shaped box. You were meant to remember the truth: you are free.

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