The Incarnation of Christ can be a powerful reminder of this critical question: is my head with my body?

That is only the start of our questioning, but, my word, it is quite a good one. It may not be new, but it is – at least for me – fresh. Very often we need to find new formulations, because, depending on our subjectivity, this word might touch me but that word might not.

So let me return to the question: is my head, my mind, with my body? The question came to me one morning when I was shaving, and I awoke to realise that while my body was going through the motions of shaving, my head was singing a silly song, and thoughts totally unconnected with what my body was doing were passing through it, like messages on an automated sign-board. Then the idea of having my mind with my body occurred to me, and it was as if I was sensitive to the existence of the skin envelope, the weight of my body, the sensation of the lather on my face, my presence in the room, and so on.

This question has especially been coming back to me as I am cleaning the house or performing any sort of physical task.

It leads to other questions: to start with, is my feeling with my mind and body? What can it mean to say that my mind is – or is not – with my body? What tells me that I am not lost in fantasy? It brings with it a sense of the present moment: is my mind with my body now?

We see, too, that the way up is the way down. Working with finer energies and higher bodies leads to a fuller work with the physical body.

Without such an effort, there can be no incarnation. But with that effort, the Incarnation of Christ takes on a new meaning, and we can make it practical for ourselves.