Somewhere between meeting my biological family in Haiti and moving to Seattle to pursue my day dreams as a yoga teacher/artist, I applied to attend the 300 hour yoga training with Meghan Currie. Aside from being beyond stoked to meet such an influential teacher in my life, I was wayyy stoked about being a "better teacher". It had been two-ish years since my initial training and something was calling me to continue my practice in a way that was almost risky. Leaving home for 6 weeks, leaving work for 6 weeks, leaving family, friends, and my dog for 6 weeks, that's a whole lotta leaving. But it's what we leave behind that allows us to come into our own...
So, it happened. I landed in Nicaragua, had a weird interaction with the ATM, and then found my driver holding a sign with my name on it. The drive from Managua to San Juan Del Sur was eye opening, I had flown into a tropical desert. Cactuses, dirt, and the hottest sun that stretched the sky. Yet so had 30 other individuals ready and willing to dive into the deepest teachings....... themselves.
The first week of training was a legit hot mess, as in, I cried every day. Every practice, or lecture, or trigger. So. Freaking. Sensitive. So open. So raw. So in the moment. What I thought I had smoothed out within my self still had some really fucking rough edges. What I didn't even know was a thing, was a fucking thing. And what had been observable at the surface, was now full blown in my face needing to be addressed. Naturally, a spacey person, head fulla words, ready to write, loving to dream, but there was this tug that was drawing me so much into myself, beyond identifications, that flat out made me stick my feet in the dirt and ground.
The days unfolded like spring time, the practices increased with intense observation, the friendships bloomed, and the space I held within became more clear. Even when the days came where I forgot who I was, what I was doing, my focus, my purpose, there was still this opening of creative space. So when confusion, or anger, or tears, or whatever made an appearance (some deeepp fcking work ya'll) it could move through, because I would let it. I would let the moments have me. Coming around to balance once again. As Meghan guided us day to day, to really see, to really listen, to really taste, and to really communicate with each moment, she also gave us the space to learn from our own perspective. It was all an offering, what the body needed it would remember and utilize, hence Intrinsic Genius.
Being surrounded by individuals that step into their power of unique-ness full heartedly is a force of immense light. Their light is your light, and vice versa. Every teacher/friend that participated along side me was incredibly knowledgable in their own skin. We all came with questions, and received the answers from each other by going through it together. Together. We were all together. Refreshingly together. When it was bliss, when it was shit, when it was a whirl wind of the two. Together we were linked with the heart, whether we knew it or not. Each laugh, each cry, each bit of mess cleaned up, felt across the woven threads of our bodies. I love each and every o n e of you. Like beyond beyond.
Time alone was appreciated too. To wander in the space of the body, observe its teachings, and digest. Digest. digest. Digest. The food, the lessons, the landscapes, the practices, the conversations, the wisdom, the spectrum of experiences. Ancient teachings that made the body feel new. Made the moment, the mind, the happenings feel new. And approachable. Journal pages filled with this new-ness, like a fresh breath in your lungs. Clearing up mind control. Physically viewing constructs of limitations, the beauty of dreams and the rawness of truths. Without analyzing the observer or whats being observed. Powerful. Shit. Straight up. Not shaken. Or stirred.
My power was in the very thing I neglected, like a plant without water. Too much sun, and you wilt. Too much wind, and you're overblown. Too much dirt, and you're covered, Too much space, and you're adrift. Your power needs equal parts of you. Leave something out, miss the piece. Your power needs you to look evenly at the layers. Don't look, don't see. Your power needs you to sit with your findings. Movement guides stillness. Your power needs you to love the very thing you find unacceptable. Somehow it got in, and now it wants to be acknowledged and let out.
Nicaragua did more then make me a "better teacher" - it showed me what one f e e l s like. Beyond that, it allowed me to come down to earth, and love the very place I stand. I feel my feet on the ground and have given complete recognition to the root system of my bloom. My heart is spacious and thankful for the experience that striped me of my projections. There were many. And the work is still on going, lets just be honest. My ever imaginative mind is humbled and my skull needed this more then ever. The merge between dreams and reality is now a risk I am willing to take. In body, in heart, and my biggest love, art. I feel like voicing my visions as they are, without the excessive need to edit, retract, refrain, or close. My subtle arrangement of parts are moving as one unit. Together. I feel my imperfections and see them as beautiful, now.
There is no longer a grip around needing to be this or that way, only the opening to be my way. In that space, where all things originate, I have cleared room for myself to be seen and love the wild woman that I am.
So many thank you's to my teacher Meghan Currie, my yoga family far and wide, and my family family, near and close.
~ love your wild happenings