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Yoga Dreamin’

December 9, 2014

The other night I had this tripped out dream-
I was some place teachin yoga to like 500 people. That wasn’t NECESSARILY the scary part, just a part. Anyhow at one point I was walking around, giving instructions, tryna teach, and share what I came to share.

I looked around and noticed that folks had body parts hanging off and stuff oozing outta the body parts. I wondered when that started happening and why I was just noticing it.
Despite all of that, they were still flowin, movin, and jumpin in and out of poses. At some point, one side of the room broke out into a dance off of some kind!

Lawd!

There was a small core group in the center who just sat down and began to meditate, amidst all of the other noise.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted one woman going into wheel pose in a hella wild way. I could see her heart about to break and fall out of her chest. Mind you, this was not “shinin” out y’all, but breakin and fallin out!

That was it.
I yelled STOP as loud as I could!

Slowly, folks began to stop. I asked them to gather around the woman whose heart was about to fall out. I asked her did she want to work on the steps to get to the back bend, to support her body and heart, or just to be held where she was. She shrugged, rolled her eyes, and said “not really”.

We all sat there for a while. Some people laughed. Some people played with their hair or toes. Others looked away or reached for their phones to text, take pictures or otherwise capture, but not feel, the weight of the moment.

The “heart fallin” woman began to cry. First quietly, then loudly, then sobs filled the room from all directions.
Those meditating just sat. Their eyes were still closed. They cried silently.

Then I woke up. Just like that. No resolution inside the dream though it was quite the synthesis of ways I’ve practiced and been with myself. It called to mind what I have both witnessed and experienced as a student and teacher of yoga over the past 12 years.

Today I went to Gina Minyard’s  class and the closing message was essentially this:
“ Our practices have to be more powerful than our habits. Otherwise we are just stirring up our sh!t and sitting (asana-ing) all fancy like up. in. it that mess.

Dear Yoga peeps, come get me. Clearly, I/we need to talk!
ha!

Gratitude.

December 1, 2014

There were people here. They walked this land before it was called “country” “united” “states” or any other such possessive thing.
We sometimes remember them in feathers, magic, dreams, and flutes; they are so much more than that. We are all standing on their bones and shoulders.
For the Indigenous of this land, I am grateful.

There are folk who survived a passage called Middle. Who, when pressed down, rose up again, and again, and again. They still rise every morning, when I do. I hear their chants, stories, and prayers in trees and rivers, open fields, street corners, and church pews. The fabric of my being is woven from their blood.
For my Ancestors, I am grateful.

There is a man in our kitchen. He is cooking. He knows how to sew and grow green things. He can fix broken cars, doors, and hearts, to. His breath is my favorite song. For his love and partnership, I am grateful.

There is a short brown woman who can make a dollar out of two cents. She has Jesus on the mainline (all the time). She loved me before I existed. She can comb out the tangles in my hair and mind. For my mama, I am grateful.

There’s a lady who tucks my dreams under her heart and carries them everywhere. She used to let me steal her clothes and her cool back in high school. She taught me how to look fear square in the eyes and cuss fear and nem’ the f@ck out, then move on. For my big sister, I am grateful.

That’s a whole lotta words to say, I am grateful for what holds me: truth and love.

What are you grateful for?

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