My Body Is a Shrine: A Sacred Tides Devotion

by Iya Omi 

Opening Reflection

“Every time I move, rest, or nourish myself, I am tending to a living altar.
My body is the shrine through which Spirit breathes.”

The Devotion

I used to think taking care of my body was about losing weight and making myself more acceptable to others. But I’ve come to understand that this body is not a project or punishment. It’s a living shrine built by the Divine, sustained by Spirit, and deserving of the same reverence I give to my altars.

This awareness wasn’t a sudden epiphany that made me instantly act right. Nope. It came slowly—through being diagnosed as prediabetic, losing weight, regaining it, breaking my ankle, dealing with depression, slipping back into unhealthy eating, facing high cholesterol, perimenopause, and finally being told I needed to be on a statin.

At 53, I’m finally seeing that my health is not just about aesthetics—it’s about clearing my roads.

Through all these ups and downs, I shut down. I had brain fog, chronic sinus infections, hot flashes, emotional swings, and fatigue that made even prayer feel heavy. I wasn’t showing up for my spiritual obligations because I just couldn’t.

The Return to Movement

Warm weather always seems to bring a shift in my spirit—as if the sun calls me back to myself.

I like being outside, and as soon as spring hit, I started talking to myself again. I began walking, slowly. What really pushed me forward was having a workout buddy.

She picked me up—literally and spiritually. For three months we hit the gym, walked five miles, and reminded each other that our bodies are worth showing up for.

Now that she’s back in school (because she’s studying to be a phenomenal nurse), we can’t meet up as often, but she gave me the jumpstart I needed.

My trainer carried the torch. She showed up even when I didn’t—as a living example that consistency is its own prayer.

I still get on the scale. I love seeing the number drop—but something shifted. I started wanting to know what the number meant. The weight was coming off, but I was more intrigued by how I was moving.

I could climb stairs without gasping. I could bend without wincing. My squats grew deeper, my hills shorter, and once my husband got me in the right shoes, I started showing out.

Five miles became six because I wanted to see what my body could do—what I could do.

I began experimenting with food again. I added herbs back into my life, supplements from my doctor and trainer, recipes from YouTube, and guidance from ChatGPT to help me track my meals and workouts.

Five pounds became ten, then thirty, and now—fifty-one pounds down. Slow, steady, sacred. Because I stayed consistent. Strength training two to three times a week, walking two to three times a week, and finding rhythm with food.

The Healing

I realized I had to stop treating my body like a dumping ground. I have purpose, calling, and a destiny that requires energy, clarity, and strength. I cannot serve Spirit from an exhausted temple.

When I feed or clean my shrines, I do it with prayer, patience, and intention.
So why wouldn’t I feed my own vessel—my bones, my blood, my breath—with that same sacred care?

This body is the Divine’s chosen home for my work. Every sip of tea, every stretch, every breath is part of my devotion.

This is my worship now—wellness as spiritual practice.

The Wounds and the Reclaiming

For years, I lived under words that made me feel small. My father once said he didn’t like “fat women.” I carried that wound for decades—alongside the scars from an abusive relationship and the weight of a 30-year marriage filled with lessons, love, and struggle.

All of it shaped how I saw myself, how I dressed, how I showed up.
I couldn’t believe that at 53—a woman who has helped other women heal—I was still holding on to so much that didn’t serve me.

But with time, Spirit began whispering louder than those old voices. I started seeing myself through a divine lens—as someone never meant to shrink, but to shine.

Shine for me. Show up for me. Love me the way I’ve loved others.

Now, as a bald-headed Black woman adorned with jewelry, tattoos, and piercings, I feel more myself than I ever have. I walk into rooms carrying both softness and power.

At work, my adornments often start conversations—“You have such beautiful style,” people say. I smile, because what they’re seeing isn’t just jewelry—it’s peace in my own skin.

The Revelation

It’s not about fashion.
It’s not about weight.
It’s about alignment.

When you’re in harmony with yourself—mind, body, and spirit—you radiate differently. You move differently. You become the altar.

This journey isn’t about dieting; it’s about devotion. I am tending to the temple Spirit built for me so She can dwell here freely.

That doesn’t mean I don’t have off days—it means I’ve built a stronger foundation. A spiritual toolkit grounded in both practicality and faith.

It reminds me that Spirit shows up when I do.
Spirit doesn’t work for me—She works with me.*
Spirit is not just wisdom; She is thoughtfulness in motion—intention over impulse, devotion over distraction.

Every breath I take in awareness is incense on this altar.
Every step is an offering.
My body is the shrine.
And I am finally home.

Your time to reflect...

Where have you been neglecting your living altar?
Offer your body one small act of devotion today—a stretch, a sip, a breath, a thank-you.
Spirit will meet you there.

✍🏾 Author’s Note

Omi Yejide is an Iyanifa and Priestess of Yemoja.
She is a womb worker, herbalist, Reiki master, and meditation teacher dedicated to helping others reconnect with the divine within. Through her Sacred Tides writings and services, she explores the intersections of wellness, spirit, and womanhood — reminding readers that the body itself is holy ground.