A photo from almost ten years ago
If you’ve read my about me page or known me for any length of time, you know that chronic depression ate my love of dance by my mid to late 20s. It wasn’t until I was 40 that I returned to the very thing that was the medicine for my depression.
We are all born with medicine. It’s the thing that makes us US. It’s the thing that makes us lose all track of time. It’s the thing that when we’re doing it, we enter the flow of eternity and infinity and know exactly who we are.
But our medicine is attached to the thing that will challenge us the most in this life. Thus its necessity as medicine.
Furthermore this medicine is not just for YOU. You’re meant to find it, use it, and then share it with others.
This looks as many ways as there humans on this planet.
And this is the root of the importance of community connections in our lives and the importance of shared community experience and ritual.
All of these most essential things have been lost to us in the competitive structure of capitalism that teaches us we are only worth what we can do and turn into dollars.
When other humans are seen as competition for limited resources, the divisions get deeper and the depressions spread wider.
We are, for the most part, I believe in my soul, not mentally ill but emotionally starved.
As I look back over this ten years where I’ve had the privilege of moving with thousands of (mostly) women, I am thinking of how to expand the community over the coming ten years.
As I look back over this ten years and the work and the processes I’ve developed, I wonder what direction that work can be taken in that will touch even more lives, create even more beauty, deepen our accessible well of love even more.
It is seed starting time where I live, so contemplating exactly which seeds to plant and what types of fertilizer to use seems like a good use of this time.
But even more, this 50th year of mine, seems like it deserves this sort of pause and breath-taking before leaping into what’s next.