Involution Labs

Tag: healing

  • How to Love Your Body

    We spend a lot of our lives worrying about how our bodies look. Not because we chose to—but because, somewhere along the way, we learned that how we look matters more than how we feel.

    We learn it early. At home, in school, and later through social media. It’s not always said out loud, but it’s there—in comments, comparisons, and the quiet understanding that some bodies are “better” than others. Over time, this voice becomes our own. We stop questioning it and start believing it’s just the truth.

    But what if it isn’t?

    We are all living in different bodies, yet most of us grow up feeling like the one we have isn’t quite right—that there’s always a better version we should be working toward. And so, we spend our time trying to fix something that was never broken.

    The female body is incredible. It can lose blood every month and keep going. It can grow a life and bring it into the world. And still, too many girls grow up feeling like their bodies are something to fix.

    The male body is incredible too. Strong, capable, resilient. And still, too many boys grow up believing their bodies are something to hide or be ashamed of.

    Somewhere along the way, we learned to look at our bodies as problems instead of partners.

    Instead of criticising your body, what if you started speaking to it differently?

    • Thank you for keeping my heart beating, even when it was broken.
    • Thank you for every instinct I felt in my gut.
    • Thank you for keeping me standing when I felt like falling.
    • Thank you for staying with me, even when I pushed you away.
    • Thank you for carrying me through everything I’ve lived through.

    Your body has been there for you your entire life. It has never left you, no matter how you’ve treated it.

    Spend time seeing your body as it is. Not dressed, not hidden—just as it exists. It’s hard to feel comfortable in something you avoid looking at. Wrinkles, lines, scars, marks, softness, changes—they are not flaws. They are evidence. They are signs of a body that has lived.

    Your body is not something to decorate. It’s something that carries you.

    Don’t restrict food in a way that punishes your body. It won’t cooperate—it will push back. Your body is not against you. It’s always trying to support you, even when you’re not listening.

    Stop forcing yourself into things that don’t feel right, whether that’s food, clothes, or expectations. Wear what makes you feel good. Eat what feels right for you. Live in a way that works with your body, not against it.

    If social media makes it harder, step back. You don’t need to constantly see bodies that make you question your own. You are allowed to create space for yourself.

    Your body was never the problem. The way you were taught to see it was.

    Start small. Once a week, write down something you appreciate about your body—not for how it looks, but for what it has done for you.

    Your body is your home. It’s where you live your entire life.

    It deserves your respect.
    It deserves your care.

    And so do you.

  • Love Education

    Love Education

    None of us is shown or taught how to love, but we should be. We may learn facts and skills in life, but rarely do we learn the deeper skill of loving. We can choose to live without sex, but we can’t live without love. How to love deeply and broadly is what we need—and what the Earth needs too. We must learn how to love strangers, how to love nature, and how to love everything we encounter.

    Our goal in life should be to make love. Not just in the romantic or physical sense, but in the way we move through the world. We can learn to live in love without being in love. Turning living into loving is a lifelong path.

    Yet society’s idea of love often misleads us. We are taught that love is something that happens to us, a reaction when we encounter something “deserving” of love. But deep love is not a rare event to wait for—it is something we practice. Don’t wait for the big love. Love the ordinary people and the small things. Loving the ordinary makes it extraordinary. Saving your love until something better comes along is not loving at all.

    If your culture has taught you to hold back—to wait, to make sure who or whatever is “worthy” before you give love—what are you losing out on? Love is not a prize to be earned. Love is a decision. Love is action. Love is a choice you make again and again. And there is no need to be loved back in order to love.

    We should also be careful not to mistake love for its imitations. To seduce is to lead astray—to try to make someone become who we want them to be, instead of loving who they really are.

    True love goes deeper. True love is core love. True love is mutual love. We don’t simply fall in love—we practice love. To love takes energy, especially when love awakens feelings of powerlessness, helplessness, or vulnerability. Real love takes work.

    And yet, this work transforms us. When we are courageous enough to be ourselves with another, to grow and change together, love keeps growing. Passion can ripen into something more real when we dare to take the risk of loving fully. Because real love changes us.

    It is only when we dare to have our heart broken that we can truly love. True love gives and forgives.

  • We’re All Part of the Broken Family

    I read your words, and I felt something shift—not in the way I imagine you intended. You said what you needed to say, and I suppose this is me doing the same. Skriva av mig.

    You write with the tone of someone who’s already moved on, who’s emotionally detached and looking back at the wreckage from a safe, elevated distance. But I didn’t feel wisdom in your letter. I didn’t feel love. I felt something performative. Something self-satisfied. You used to be someone I admired for your depth—for your ability to hold contradictions, for your courage to look at the mess and not turn away. This felt like the opposite. This felt like someone writing to win a crowd, not seek the truth.

    You compared America to a mentally ill family member. That’s not philosophy, that’s pathologizing a people. That’s taking the worst of one nation and building a metaphor that makes everyone else the sane, stable, rational grownups. Europe becomes the wise wife. Canada, the pretty girl next door. Russia, the neighbourhood monster. And you? You’re the knowing observer, shaking your head in sorrow from your morally secure porch.

    You’ve written off an entire nation as if it’s a single consciousness—chaotic, erratic, no longer trustworthy. That’s not just lazy, it’s dangerous. It flattens the millions of people in that country who are fighting the good fight. Who are pushing back. Who are trying to hold something together while the ground shifts beneath them. You saw the storm, and instead of offering a rope, you stepped back to watch.

    And meanwhile, Europe—your golden child in this metaphor—gets a free pass. No mention of its own ongoing nationalism. No mention of how it’s leaned on the US for security, convenience, and political cover for decades. No mention of its own violent history or its complicity in the very global order you now denounce. It’s easier, I guess, to pretend Europe is rising like a phoenix while America flails.

    But this isn’t healing. This isn’t insight. It’s resignation dressed up as moral clarity.

    You say you haven’t given up on America, that your door is open. But everything in your letter says otherwise. You’ve already packed the bags, changed the locks, and started dating someone new. What remains is the guilt talking, not the love.

    I don’t say this as a flag-waver or an apologist. I see the mess. I feel the grief. But I also see the reductionism, the projection, the convenient forgetting. And that—coming from someone who claims to be a philosopher—is what stings the most.

    If you want to walk away, fine. But don’t pretend it’s out of compassion. And don’t pretend you’re not part of the same broken family.

    We all are.