The idea of joybody arose from a lifetime of painbody

It’s been rainy here after many weeks of drought, and suddenly, my body is one big bag of aches. Dry weather is best (cold or warm/hot) and cold wet is the worst.

I’ve been thinking about this blog for some time, but the idea of trying to write out all the ways my body is a literal pain was just overwhelming.

I won’t be including the ways my brain causes me pain. Most of you know at least a bit about my history of depression and anxiety and there’s some of that in my about me. (And I also won’t be including anything here about a couple of chronic issues, including lifelong migraine.)

And I wanted to write about my chronic pain issues so that it makes more sense when I write about the idea of joybody.

My Original PainBody

When you live with pain from a young age, you don’t notice that you live with pain. It’s just always there. It’s the water you swim in.

Even just a couple of years ago, I saw a meme about a doctor asking a patient where their pain level was and the patient said it was about a four… you know… normal. And the doc said, well, no pain is what’s normal.

WHAT?!

I remember from a very early age waking up and pressing all of my fingers into the wall to “wake them.” They were stiff from the get go. As was a lot of my body.

There were times when getting out of a chair, it would take me a few steps to feel like my legs were “ready.” (This still happens.)

And don’t even get me started on my low back. Or my shoulders which started getting bursitis in my early teens. (I now know what it was. Then I wouldn’t have had that word and I wouldn’t have even complained. It just was what it was.)

The Weirds of My Body

I’m pretty sure I could get a fibromyalgia diagnosis. My pain points are that widespread.

But here are a collection of things that are actually wrong with my body. (And if you’ve been in class with me, you know I say, “I’ve never seen your actual skeleton so I don’t know your body enough to tell you what you can or should/not do.”

Well, I’ve seen plenty of my skeleton:

• I have congenital hip dysplasia on my left side. As a dancer, I used this for extreme flexibility tricks. Someone should have told me to stop. (This hip dysplasia will come up later in a significant way.)

• My right tibia is twisted inward.

• Which makes my right knee only point forward if my right foot is out a bit.

• The last vertebra on my right side overgrew and connect to the top of my pelvis.

• And all of my joints are hypermobile. Again, this was something that dance took advantage of and praised… oy…

Stepping on Nails

I lived with all of this pretty quietly. And it got worse over time as I got depressed and moved less and less. It got so bad that…

I was coming down the stairs in my house and I took a step and was 100% convinced I had stepped on a nail. I was convinced that when I looked down, I would see TONS OF BLOOD. But of course, that wasn’t what had happened. From this moment for the next couple of years, it would just randomly happen and I would spend too much time on the couch. I started to actually look into canes. In my mid 30s.

It would also get so bad that I would do the stairs on my butt… yep.

I’ve told this story a million times but in my late 30s, I met a PT at a party. I was talking a lot about my love of martial arts films, and she said, “Do you want to do martial arts?” And I said, “OH! I can’t… not with my hip!” And she said, “Yeah… I’ve been watching how you walk… I could fix that…”

I went to Cleveland to see her for three hours and it cost more money than I had and was worth ten times as much.

She taught me how to access my core while walking. I walked over and over again, slowly, around the small park in my neighborhood to retrain my body. It worked.

Until… it all started up again…

The Magical Doc

By this time, I was dancing many hours a day every day and teaching what would become Peony Somatic Dance. So when it started to happen again, I was devastated. I asked around and found a musculoskeletal doc.

And finally! He figured out my hip dysplasia was some of the worst he’d ever seen and that it was shortening my psoas muscles. He said he usually only saw it that bad in ultra runner types and that dancers usually had the opposite problem but thanks to my skeleton… again, ugh.

He believed that once I was armed with the diagnosis that I could figure out what to do. And I did. And I did the tings I needed to do every single day, multiple times a day, and if it even feels a teensy bit like that to this day, I go right back to those basics.

And finally tennis

I still have pain. I have days and weeks and months where I’m never pain free but I’m not in the kind of pain I used to be because of how much I move.

The more I move, the more I can move and the better my body and mind feel. There’s no stopping. (Except when there is and then the whole depression cycle starts up again.)

One thing, though, that I’d been avoiding for all these years was tennis.

I was afraid of getting hurt, because if I’m hurt and can’t dance, well, I’m screwed.

But after two frozen shoulders, I said, FUCK IT! I LOVE TENNIS! (And have since I was quite small.)

And that has been everything. It was the final key I needed for this body puzzle. I am as in love with tennis as I have ever been with dance, and it pushes me in ways that dance does not.

When I’m playing tennis, it is really clear to me that this body would have been so much happier in this world if I had not used my intellect as an escape pod from my life. My life would have been completely different if I had taken my physicality this seriously from the get go but alas… I am taking it seriously now and that matters.

My Point

I know pain. I know chronic pain. And I cannot overemphasize how much MORE important it is for those of us who suffer to find ways to move that are joyful.

We’ve been living, most likely, in a sort of fearful relationship with our body, which then affects our mind and the rest of our lives.

Gently and with patience we can come out of that fear relationship through play. Once we navigate through these early stages, we can start doing more challenging things.

But we must consciously take on this task. These choices we make right now will affect how we age.

I want to be one of those 90 somethings that is still playing tennis multiple times a week and of course creating dance. How about you?

A little catch up

Things are slowing down around here a bit. It’s been a bunch of months with one thing after another — lots of good things besides the awful of the world.

And right now, I feel like I have a little bit of breathing space and I’m looking forward to noticing what’s been on my mind. (When we’re busy with projects, so much goes unspoken and unwritten, at least for me.)

A few things going on with me:

• I’ve rediscovered my love of reading fiction and poetry and I’ve been making more time for this even in the middle of the day. I have been making a point to sit outside and take in some beautiful words. One day a younger person walking by turned back and said, “THAT is such a VIBE! Enjoy your day!” and it made me giggle.

• I’m fully in “obsessed with tennis” mode and I know you are likely thinking “WHAT?!? Weren’t you already?” Sure… sure… but I’m at a whole new level. I even said to Craig the other day that I really want to get good enough to feel like I could compete and have a chance of winning in some sort of older tennis player sort of matches. (I think the USTA does stuff like that.) That just feels like a really healthy dream.

• And toward that dream, I’ve gotten back into the gym to lift weights (good for you regardless of sports) and I can already tell the difference on the court only three weeks in — especially in terms of my cardio fitness.

• One of our older cats, Daisy, is really slowing down, but I’m noticing how much calmer than ever I am feeling about just being there for her and not freaking the fuck out with big time stress.

Questions for you:

• Have you read anything really freaking fantastic lately? I’d love to hear about it. Especially fiction, please.

• What are you doing for your physical body?

• And do you have any new dreams (small or big) that you’re putting energy into?

"Giving up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul"

That quote has stuck with me from this video. Though almost every single sentence he drops is like a sparkling gem. This video is worth your time… more than once, I’m betting.

The world has me feeling quiet

From a class I just taught at the Columbus Museum of Art. The joy in this felt right in a post about Andrea.

Words come less easily lately. I am stunned into silence by this world we’re living in. My heart aches but that is often covered over by so much red hot anger that I forget how much it is actually my softness that is suffering.

I will try to get back to writing more regularly because I have lists and lists of things I want to put words to. And I know if I write about what really matters to me that over time more words will come…

For now, I am, like so many on this planet, grieving the loss of poet Andrea Gibson. They were a gift to us.

And this … the last line especially… feels like something everyone should read:

“My love, I was so wrong. Dying is the opposite of leaving. When I left my body, I did not go away. That portal of light was not a portal to elsewhere, but a portal to here. I am more here than I ever was before. I am more with you than I ever could have imagined. So close you look past me when wondering where I am. It’s Ok. I know that to be human is to be farsighted. But feel me now, walking the chambers of your heart, pressing my palms to the soft walls of your living.”

— Andrea Gibson

Uncovering a layer of privilege and the shame of it...

I can’t remember if it was right after the election or right after the inauguration, but I was, as many of us were, feeling terrible. And I had a meeting with the owner of the studio where I teach in Columbus. Heartfelt is queer owned and committed to elevating the experiences of marginalized humans.

Vinny, the owner, is a freaking unicorn, and I mean that on an emotional, spiritual, and mental level. He’s worked hard to build a beautiful life filled with joy. And he personifies it: the first meeting I ever had with him, he came into the coffee shop in a long, bright pink, faux fur. He fuels himself with bags of skittles. And I think, really, he probably passes rainbows. ((laughing))

He is not a caricature, don’t get me wrong. As I said, he’s worked hard and the glitter coating you see on the outside is over a depth that comes from profound challenges met with curiosity and grace.

Back to our meeting after the orange menace took over.

I asked Vinny how he was doing, expecting him to say something like “devastated” or “scared”… you know, something more along the lines that I, existing in so many safe roles, was feeling. (Besides being a woman, of course, which has never been safe in this country.)

Instead he said something more along the lines of “great! Excited about (fill in the blank)!”

I was stunned.

And this was the start of a huge realization that has taken me until the last week or so to really articulate.

I have never been someone who had to be told she was privileged. I understand the layers and layers of my personal privilege.

But this particular piece of privilege was so deep… it’s really a core privilege and I think we can be most ignorant of those.

Over these first few months of 2025, I hear myself constantly saying to loved ones and trusted confidants that I do not have the tools to live in this world that they are building. I am devastated. I am in a deep, drowning sea of despair. I feel a level of powerlessness that I have never felt before.

My depression is the worst it’s been in over 20 years.

On top of that is a red hot rage and hate that I’ve never felt before.

I am afraid for all of us.

And that all makes sense.

But it’s the lack of tools that has completely stunned me. I do not have the right tools to meet this moment. I mean psychologically, of course.

Nothing is working.

Vinny has the tools. Other marginalized humans have the tools. They are, somehow, being angry and still also finding their joy and living their lives.

You know why?

Because this unsafe world is the world they have always lived in. They have had to develop these tools from day one. (Again, as a woman, there is definitely a lack of safety but as a whyte woman… it’s, well, a bit safer.)

My. God. When I realized this!

THIS is the depth of our privilege. We have not needed these particular tools*.

(*These tools are distinctly different from the tools a lot of us have created in response to personal traumas that are not relative to being marginalized by the wider culture.)

And now we do need them and you can’t just snap your fingers to conjure them and you can’t just sit in meditation for a few days and they suddenly appear.

These are tools that are forged in pain and challenge that has been in people’s lives for decades. These are tools that marginalized communities share with one another and teach each other.

And there’s the other key… communities.

I have communities of which I am a part, but I do not know how to deepen these communities in the way that, for example, the trans community has always had to do. Or the black community. Or any religion that is not freaking Christian in this country.

I think my communities are exceptional. I love the humans who are in the many circles of which I am a part. But for the most part, the communities themselves are also part of the privilege issue in that the people in them tend to all look like me and have the same sorts of backgrounds. So there’s no new information being brought in (and we all work hard to learn but it’s second hand, for the most part, isn’t it?).

I don’t have some sort of revelatory conclusion to bring here.

I am just noticing the depth of the problem.

And it’s really scary to notice this when we need to be able to hit the ground running. People are suffering and they need us.

But it we are struggling ourselves just to maintain an okay mindset, to be able to do the bare minimum, to simply live from day to day, we are really of very little help.

Because one of the key ingredients in this coming revolution/resistance is the ability to move forward from joy and love and compassion. Or we’ll build something that looks like all the old things and those old things helped to get us to this terrible place.

We need new ideas and better ideas and more beauty and laughter and playfulness so that we can conjure and create something brand new that makes space for each of us in our unique beauty.

So that’s where I am… contemplating my privilege, my lack of tools, the layer of shame that comes with that, and what I need to do to build the right muscles for the work ahead.

When early chronic dieting has broken your eating intuition

Intuitive eating is great if you can actually feel when you’re hungry and feel when you’ve had enough. But those mechanisms aren’t always that clear cut or working for a wide variety of reasons, not the least of which is that we’re all different. Our brains are all different. Our reactions to food are all different.

And our eating backgrounds are all different.

If you were a girl growing up in the 1980s, you were likely constantly being put on diets. And that very much damages your relationship to food and your body.

Even when I was a size zero I was not small enough.

Only when I started to dance again in my 40s did my relationship to food and body finally become neutral, which I think is actually the healthiest relationship you can have to those things.

But over the last few years, as depression has eaten away at my healthy mindsets, it has also brought up old patterns around food and body.

And because I can’t simply intuit about food, I end up eating things that do not feel good in my body and I end up eating too much — to the point of discomfort.

Something had to change. Body and mind are one and I know from experience that to get my body back to more comfortable and more active is to then heal my mind.

So I’ve started to track my food again because of that lack of intuition.

And whoa… it’s freaking surprising.

First, I don’t ever think of myself as an emotional eater. As a matter of fact, if I’m super stressed I don’t eat.

But… I am a bored eater. I am a depressed eater.

I am constantly thinking about what food I could be putting into my mouth.

Second, the amount of food that I thought was necessary to make me feel full was way off. I knew this, as I said, because I was uncomfortable, but the amount I needed to feel full and comfortable was a lot different than I anticipated.

(I’m using this macro counter and a food scale. TO BE CLEAR: NOT to deprive myself but to recalibrate my understanding of food.)

So this is part of my journey right now. And if you need to talk about it, you can always email me or ask to be added to my group on Facebook.

And if you need to move more, I start a new 4 week session of Stim Yoga and Peony Somatic Dance online classes next week.

The problem of dissociation when "listening to the body"

When the body doesn’t feel safe

The ground of Peony Somatic Dance is breathe and wait. We focus on the breath first to drop into the now and center, and then we patiently listen for or pay attention to the messages of the body. Following that, honest expression can emerge.

But what if when we breathe and attempt to pay attention to the body, we simply can’t?

What if we have a history of dissociation and that is still triggered?

What if it just feels scary to enter the body in this way?

All of these things can drive us away from something like a somatic dance practice. It can keep us from simple exercise. It can prevent us from truly enjoying the sensual aspects of life, because the body does not feel like a safe space.

How do we develop the body as safe space without creating more shutdown and numbness?

How to deal with dissociatioN during movement

There are a bunch of ways to deal with this issue that are more gentle. Over time you can progress through them, but remember, it’s not a ladder. It’s a spiral.

It’s not a simple ladder because if we’ve had a lifetime of dissociative disorder, I don’t think it’s ever just gone. Extreme stress or vile political administrations can certainly bring it back. It’s so deeply embedded in our neurobiology and our body/mind revert to the oldest coping mechanisms because they’re the most “practiced.”

So these new somatic practices are never one and done.

All of this is also why it’s important to work with someone with deep experience. I can tell when a student is distressed even if they aren’t obviously freaking out, for example, and I have a tool box the size of a castle that I can pull from until we find the thing that helps or soothes, whatever is needed.

Peony Somatic Dance methods of the gentle variety

This is just s small example of the tools I would pull from, but it might give you an idea of where to start. (You could also take a class with me, of course, online if you’re not local to Columbus, OH, or you can contact me about possible one on one work if you don’t feel like you’re ready for a class.)

So here are some possible ways of approaching a body that is not feeling safe:

Put all of your attention on your environment. Externalize your awareness. You could put on some music and start to identify items in your space. If you’re alone, you could do this out loud. “Chair, photo, clock” etc. You could add lots of detail if that felt good. As you’re doing this, allow movement to happen but keep your attention outside of the body and the movement.

Touch and name your bodyparts as you move. This is exactly what it sounds like. Moving your right hand? Touch it with your left and say to yourself, this is my right hand.

Attention to body boundaries. Just notice where your body begins and the space outside of you starts. This could be as simple as focusing your movement in your feet and feeling the floor. Or you could get on the floor and move around gently, feeling the feedback from the floor into your body parts. There are a lot of other ways to get this same feedback but moving on…

Place your attention on another body. This is best done led in a class or you can do it with a loved one at home. You can try mirror movement: each of you taking a turn to lead. Keep things really simple. Another option is to start with super simple contact improv like you see in the photo above or as seen here.

Again, there are so many ways to deal with dissociation even when it can feel a bit scary. (And again, experienced guides are so very necessary.)

Let me know if you have any questions or insights!

Growing our community muscles has to be a priority

From a recent local class.

Let me start by saying that a lot of us have grown, over our lives, complacent about community building. We tend to participate in communities that are convenient and easy.

This has been especially true since the pandemic, from which we learned to isolate more and more. Of course, this was necessary in terms of 3D human encounters to protect us all, but many of us gave up altogether even in the face of tools that could have kept our community muscles a bit more healthy.

So we enter into next week, into a new and potentially damaging paradigm, leaning again into isolation.

This won’t do.

Not if we want the coming years to be at all safe for women and marginalized humans. We can’t just sink into our aloneness and stay at home watching television and judge the world as it burns from our comfortable front windows.

We must commune with likeminded humans. We must build trust and companionship because that’s the foundation of the work that will call to us.

We must build this trust and companionship via shared story (and truth) telling.

We must embody this trust and companionship.

I’m convinced that this cannot only all be done in 3D but also if we are far away from one another via the very tools that many want to use to hurt us.

Tools are only as good as their users… whether this be the maps of religions or tech tools or hammers or communication.

And we must not desert these very powerful tools to those who would use them for evil. (Yes, evil.)

I will be staying, for example, on Facebook because it has a free private group function that no one else offers. I can use that to grow community.

But beyond that, I am staying because I will not let these spaces be taken over by hateful voices. I will be a compassionate voice. I will fight for the space that has given me so much.

And I will, of course, continue to teach online via zoom. The community that has grown in those classes since the start of the pandemic is as beautiful and deep and solid as any community in 3D that I am a part of. To say otherwise is to demean our basic, DNA level need and capacity to connect to one another regardless of circumstances.

So I come to you with two things.

If you’re not in the Circle of Trees on Facebook, ask me to add you.

Here’s a quick take on what goes on in there: It's a space where people feel really safe to share challenges -- and joys. We talk a lot about neurodivergence/neurospicy brains, and mental health, and of course. somatic/healing movement. The support in this space and the kindness and compassion are indescribable.

And as always, I have classes starting. They start next week, the week of the inauguration.

I, like most of you I assume, am grieving that inauguration, but I know, too, that I can’t stay stuck in grief, and being in somatic dance spaces with other humans is how I take care of my emotional and mental health so that I can be strong for myself and everyone around me.

You can register for Peony Somatic Dance classes right now.

Don’t hide. Don’t disappear. We need every single one of our voices out in this world. Now more than ever.