Who, what, when, where, why, how, and the other…
If you know me, I don’t proudly claim to be from Michigan. Rarely, if ever, do I say I’m from Rochester, because if I do, more often than not people make an assumption (usually negative) about me and think that I’m something that I’m not. Rochester tends to hold a negative connotation filled with a life of privilege which was not my truth growing up there.
Saturday morning at Bonnaroo
I, friends who are now my family, and strangers who aren’t strangers anymore played in the Bonnaroo mushroom—a popular water attraction and landmark watering hole at the festival. While splashing on the pad, I couldn’t help but think, “Yep, this is it. This is what healing your inner child feels and looks like.”
Sunday morning an hour before teaching yoga
I woke up to the terrible news that a splash pad (something that should be a safe space for all and more importantly for the tiny humans) had been attacked by gun—which I think goes hand in hand with one’s mental health—violence.
To be honest, I don’t know how many have been injured or how many died, and I truly can’t bring myself to look at any news or articles about it.
I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to get up on a stage, be mic’d up, let alone lead people in a class where they needed to clear and heal their bodies and minds.
Sunday morning was the hardest and most challenging thing I’ve ever done. And the worst day of my life. But it was also the best day of my life. So many things can be true at once and it’s confusing as fuck, but that’s life.
As I looked out at all the beautiful souls practicing together, moving their bodies, healing themselves and their own traumas, dancing, and screaming together as a community, “Life is really fucking hard but I love myself and it’s so, so worth it,” tears started pouring down my face like the water seeping out of the mushroom.
This class is/was/and will always be dedicated to those souls at the splash pad that day and to my Rochester community and home.
To say I cried a few times while teaching would be an understatement. After letting out a deep, full-body sob (you know the cry that feels like a punch to your gut, doubles you over, and you weep uncontrollably with no end in sight).
I said, “No pressure, but for anyone that wants to join I want to run through the mushroom for the people waking up today whose lives will never be the same.”
And with new friends that’s what we did.
Being alive is the biggest gift
Healing is hard. Life is harder. Having community and knowing we are all in this together is the only way for us to do the damn thing and heal this shit collectively.
Thank you for reading this and making it this far as I’ll now get off of my soapbox.
To show compassion and love for others and the world we first need to show it and love ourselves—which is the hardest thing to do. Making peace with your past selves and all your fucked up choices is just a part of this crazy, wild ass ride called life.
Everyone has their own story and own journey. Emotions are the most important thing we have and to heal, grow, and change we need to be vulnerable, feel all of the feelings, and most importantly share these things with others, so they can heal, too.
We are in this together and if you need me, I’m here. I am so grateful for every one of you. Don’t hesitate to reach out. Yoga truly saved my life. Let’s heal this shit 👏🏼
Happy roo 🍄✨🌈