War, Snicker Bites, and Joy

I wrote a couple of weeks ago that, for the first time in a long time, I was going to do some things for Lent. When I was more of a practicing sort of Catholic (though in my own wonky ways, as you all know), Lent was actually one of my favorite times of the year.

Which sounds like a weird thing to say but I loved the 40 days set aside for deep diving into our own inner dark caves (as a priest in Erie put it one time). This was a time for me to seriously up my daily spiritual practices and to explore the shadow sides of me that had maybe taken over a bit too much.

Over the last few years, I’ve been drowning in a sort of existential despair that has dragged me into total and complete atheism — a place that is really dangerous for my mental health. I know some people create a really happy and meaningful life as atheists. There are many paths in this life. So I’m not knocking atheism but admitting that it is harmful to my own particular psyche.

The world is too dark for me to not believe in anything. My own brain is too dark, actually. I need a place outside of myself to place and practice devotion. For me, that’s usually Our Lady of Guadalupe and other forms of Mary, but it’s also the writings of Thomas Merton and Dorothy Day and writings about Saints Francis and Claire and Hildegarde and Teresa, to name a few.

For this Lent, my first really in many years, I am doing daily morning reading and writing that is focused on this time. I’m trying to be more mindful about my own inner world.

And though I’ve not succeeded, I am, as I wrote, attempting to let go of apathy and lethargy.

Then there’s…

Sugar

This one seems silly and trite, right? Like when we were little and we would give up something we loved. Or how some people see Lent as this weird time to backdoor some toxic eating habits and maybe lose some weight.

I wanted to give up added sugar and chocolate because I was feeling like it was too much in my life. Like I was no longer in charge of it. Like it was no longer a treat.

Also, my family has a lot of diabetes so this was, for me, a reset for my health. Again, a pretty self centered Lenten practice but I felt like I needed that added motivation.

Then Craig said something to me the other day that made me stop and think. He was teasing but it hit me deeper: “What’s gonna happen at the end of Lent? Will you just eat ALL the chocolate?”

If I’m really wanting or needing a reset for my health, then this all or nothing thinking is not helpful, because eventually, I will just land back at ALL.

War and Joy

I had already reevaluated my lenten practice at about day 12, and then this vile and stupid administration decided to put the entire world at an elevated level of danger by starting a war in Western Asia (a more proper way of referring to the Middle East, which is a colonizer term).

There are a lot of reasons to be extra afraid about this war. I won’t go into that all here because that’s not what this space is for. But suffice it to say that this is way worse than is being talked about in mainstream media.

I’m paying attention but I’m also trying not to get too lost in the dark maze of frightening details about what is happening or what could happen.

Because there’s a point that that will just flatten me.

A little bit of compartmentalization can go a long way right now.

Back to sugar…

It struck me that I am living in this state of denying myself joy when we have no idea what tomorrow will bring.

That is always the case, of course, but right now, it feels more … real… more noticeable.

So here’s the conclusion I came to:

We must find bits of joy where we can right now.

For me, that’s a Snickers bite with my second small coffee after lunch. And maybe a second.

We owe ourselves good care. We owe those around us a certain level of care for ourselves too.

Most often that care looks like making sure you’re doing movement practices and spiritual practices and studying that supports your mental and emotional and physical health.

And sometimes that care looks like chocolate.

(Speaking of practices, a new session of Peony Somatic Dance and Quickie Yoga online starts next week so go here to see what’s up and to register.)

And check out my most recent Substack about my migraine journey, neurodivergence, and disability.

I never said this was easy...

And I’m talking to myself there as much as I’m talking to anyone reading this.

Even in the best of times (and I would say we weren’t aware how good the times were before the whole Drumpf era began)… even in the best of times, I’ve never said any of this was easy.

I have tried to be clear: even doing this thing I love more than any other thing I do, even getting my ass into my tights and putting on music and breathing and waiting and allowing for movement to arise, even that is not always easy.

There are days when it is easier, for sure, but most days it is anything but.

And living in this political hellscape has brought depression down upon my head again in ways I never thought would be possible.

So here I am, as if I am at the beginning again, except I don’t have the beginner excitement and curiosity I had the first time around, because, well, that’s just not possible.

I’ve been exploring and creating and teaching this stuff for over 17 years now. I’m not a novice anymore, and though I try to reenter beginner mind, it’s difficult, and it’s especially difficult as we are triggered every day, multiple times a day, by the evil of this administration.

But I’m trying. I’m failing but I keep trying.

I’m trying to find that enthusiasm again. I’m trying to find the joy and the awe and the whimsy.

I fail and I try; I fail and I try; and right now, that’s the best I have.

Recently I made a discovery about a shadow part of myself that I’m not totally proud of and I’m hoping that now that I know it’s there, I can stop failing quite so much. Seeing it is the first step, so go check out my most recent Substack post. And if you haven’t, subscribe because that would be awesome.

Movement Mantra Mondays

Every Monday on my Facebook business page and on Instagram, you will be seeing Movement Mantras. I won’t be sharing them all here so be sure to follow me at either of those places to see them.

They are a simple offering, but I think they can be impactful if you actually play with them.

I made these hoping they could provide you with a focus point for the week for your body/mind practices. And though this work will not save us from the rising tide of authoritarianism and the violence in the world, I know it will help use to have the energy to do the things that we need to do… to contribute in the ways that we can.

I’ve started thinking about my work in this way: tools for sanity and joy. Because we still deserve and need both of those things.

Like all the things I teach, these are inherently modified and can be used in a variety of ways. (If you find another way to use one that I’ve not listed, let me know!)

Ways to use Movement Mantras

• You could take these to your meditation. Whether you do seated or walking or some other form (like wrapped in a blanket and hiding out from the world for a few minutes), just add this mantra to your breath pattern and notice what arises.

• Most obviously, you could take the mantra to your somatic dance practice. Put on a piece of instrumental music and start to repeat the mantra over and over. You could say it out loud if you’re in a safe space for that. Notice how it feels in your body and then allow yourself to start moving.

• And you could use these as journal explorations. Start with the mantra at the top of your page and sit back and breathe for a few moments. Then start writing. If you get stuck, write the mantra over and over until something comes up.

No matter how you use them (and I suggest mixing it up), try using them throughout your week to see how the experience of them transforms over the days.

Topophilia: bond between human and place

If you’re not from Erie, Pennsylvania then you don’t realize the unique beauty of that small city. It sits on Lake Erie, as do plenty of other towns and cities, but it has something they do not (and no other Great Lake does): the peninsula, Presque Isle.

I was standing on the lake side of the peninsula in this photo. On some of the many miles of beach. Presque Isle has the most sand beaches of all the Great Lakes.

Presque Isle juts into the lake; a bit of land that is shaped like a long hook. And on that little bit of land there are seven — yes, seven — distinct bio regions. Like I said, this is a truly unique spot on this planet.

I was born one block up from the bay — the other side of this photo.

And I and this lake, this specific place on this lake, are forever connected.

We are all connected to some part of this earth

Long enough ago that I can’t remember to what or to whom I was listening, I came across an interview with a man who was part of the indigenous communities on, I think, New Zealand. He was also someone trying to get people to move more, to exercise more.

But they weren’t interested no matter what he taught them about the benefits, and then he realized it was because they do not see benefit to anything that isn’t about the larger community, and in particular, the relationship between larger community and land. Specifically, they thought of themselves as “mountain people,” and once he connected movement to being together on the mountain, voila! Exercise commitment to the max!

He then realized he was a river person, and he believes strongly that all people are a something type of person.

I am a lake person.

And he believes, you can’t take that out of yourself. You can’t move all over and away from your original landscape and expect to be fully happy, fully content, fully at peace, and wow, have I ever learned that in the last 9 years.

Topophilia and Estrangement

Living in Columbus has only gotten harder the longer we are here, the longer I am away from the lake and away from my peninsula.

Another thing you may not know about me: I was at the peninsula almost every day, unlike a lot of people who live there in a more disconnected way. Even if I could only squeeze in a quick drive to the entrance and stand at the water for five minutes, I did that. That was enough for my connection, my sense of self, and my mental health. (Time at the lake is a much larger piece of my mental health puzzle that I ever thought.)

Almost every time I stood at the lake’s edge, I heard her — or I heard the voice deep within me that she made space for me to hear.

So living here, I have become estranged from my landscape. I miss that lake in ways that are indescribable with words.

The names of birds

Living in Columbus is like living on a blank slate. The rivers never change: they are brown and I have never heard their voices.

There are things around here that people call lakes and I know when they say that that they have never seen nor spent significant time at an actual lake. These “lakes” are reservoirs. Man made abominations compared to the real thing.

It hurts my heart to try to go to any more of them; I have been fooled enough times. No more.

But in the last six months, I have noticed something that took me longer: I am losing the names of birds.

And why? Because there are so few here. (And I have spoken to people who have lived here a long time and they have said they’ve noticed the same thing over the last decade.)

Once in a while, I see a cardinal.

I have never seen a damn blue jay here. Not once have I heard it’s annoying whiny voice ((ha)). I miss that sound now.

And a few weeks ago, I realized that I have never seen one of my favorite birds and I realized I could not find its name in my mind.

For a bird nerd, this was … devastating.

I am sitting here typing and having a hard time finding it yet again… JUNCO!

Every early spring, I would know spring was really on its way when dozens of juncos would start turning up in my backyard.

Losing bird names is losing part of myself

This type of loss is endemic in a culture that encourages constant change and moving around for barely any real reasons. People used to move because of things like natural disasters, war, need of food.

Yes, sometimes there are still reasons like that to move, but often it’s a desire for adventure or something new. And though it’s not a bad thing to want adventure, what are we losing in the process and what are we missing in terms of depth experiences if we are constantly distracted by the details of moving and learning new places?

We have become grass is greener people in every sense of the phrase, not realizing that the grass (metaphorically speaking) that we are born to walk upon imprints itself on us and calls to us, no matter how much we try to deafen ourselves to its voice.

The Dalai Lama encourages people to try to stay in the faith tradition they were born into. As someone who believes in reincarnation, he believes there is a reason you are born into specific traditions at specific times and in specific places.

Though that’s a compelling idea, I don’t think we even have to consider this to be mystical to understand that maybe, just maybe, the places we come from are places that remain inside of us and we in them and that there is a relationship that is formed between us and land (or water or mountain) and it’s a relationship that is meant to be lasting.

Back at it: daily dance and the problem of boredom

Though I had a week with an exhausting head cold that interrupted my new routine, I have been getting back to daily dance. I have been managing a half hour. And for working by myself, this is a good start amount.

In the recent past when I’ve tried to do this, I immediately feel a deep boredom, so I thought back to my practices years ago and came up with a couple of…

Key “rules”

• I can’t force myself into using music that I think I “should.” Yes, even I have this issue. I go into practice thinking I “need” to work on serious pieces. Nope. Whatever works is the best thing.

• So I’ve been using a lot of pop music for now. Like this list and also this list that triggers joy molecules from my tween years at the skating rink.

• And the most important rule of all: the second I feel bored with the music and/or my movement, I change the song. Sometimes that means fast-forwarding through a few songs at a time, waiting for my body to respond.

• Finally, I always start with seated tummy circles, like I start just about every single class I teach. Or if I’m feeling extra dull or sad, I start with Mud Body and then go into seated tummy circles. I ritualize the start of my own practice time just like I do classes and this tells my body, here we go, and it grounds me… helps me to let go of work or overthinking.

Other rules to keep in mind about this sort of practice:

• Don’t change your clothes if that’s getting in the way. Dance in whatever you’re wearing. Or maybe only change your pants. (I do that one a LOT.)

• Don’t fret about space. You can dance in a closet.

• Set time goals for yourself but don’t force it. But also don’t just give up. Find that delicate balance between the two.

• Maybe find a friend (like me!) who could help you with accountability.

• If you hear a song while you’re driving or doing something else that gets an immediate response from your body, make sure to put that on a list.

Let me know if you have any issues with getting into a daily practice or if there are any questions I can help you with.

Wonder, Whimsy, & Winter Curriculums

I wasn’t really thinking about the whole word of the year thing and then…

Over the weekend I had a delightful conversation with a long time friend/student from long ago, and she said some things that helped ideas in my own head that had been floating around for months to finally coalesce.

Word(s) of the year for 2026

Then my phrase of the year just became obvious. Like, I didn't have to think about it at all. It was just THERE... like something that grew out of the earth:

WONDER AND WHIMSY

So first question: Are you doing a word or phrase? Do you have it yet?

At the same time as I’ve been thinking about things that that conversation helped me to solidify, I’ve also been contemplating the idea of creating personal curriculums. It’s a cool thing going around on TikTok right now.

Personal Curriculum: What and How

We all consume a lot of media — whether online or via books or streaming... We take in a lot, but do we engage with the material?

Obviously some of it is just meant to kinda… pass through us. But there’s a lot that we take in and release that’s deserving of more of our time and attention and thought.

I miss this aspect of college and graduate school: reading literature and then sitting in a room of people who are also interested in literature and we’re dissecting and diving deep and extracting. We’re talking; we’re arguing; we’re writing papers.

And then those works really become a part of us. They inform our identity and how we view the world.

So for this personal curriculum idea, there are a few important components:

1. Pick questions to ask yourself. I saw one person working on the idea of good and evil, for example. Another was investigating how authoritarianism develops. But it doesn’t have to be that serious. I’m looking into redeveloping some sense of my original wonder and whimsy.

2. Put together a course and a time limit. I’ll be working from January through mid May. Like a college’s winter/spring semester.

3. Your course can have books, articles, movies. Whatever you want. You’re the professor here and the student. My course is the stack of books in the photo but I’m still developing it so that might change. (Or I should say, one of my courses.)

4. Have a notebook or some sort of cataloging/writing/thinking process in order before you start. I’ll be using a journal for the most part.

5. Bonus: have some people who are also doing this. Check in with each other. Maybe even have chats now and then to share what you’re excited about or stuck on.

And keep in mind, as I hinted at, you don’t have to stick to one curriculum. I’m developing this one, plus another designed to reignite my geek brain around movement and dance, and a third that is purely physical.

Furthermore, this personal curriculum is just one aspect of how I’ll be playing with and exploring the ideas of wonder and whimsy in 2026, and of course, I’ll keep you up to date now and then about what’s happening.

(May 2026 be better than this terrible year.)

"Breathe and wait" meets its perfect time of year

I’ve been yelling/teaching/prompting “breathe and wait” in classes since the earliest days of Girl on Fire Movement Studio (RIP beautiful studio). Now I tend not to say it enough (and I’ll be changing that). But also? I myself do not always really hear it even as it comes out of my own damn mouth.

And of course, this prompt is not just for movement class but it’s meant to — via movement classes — become so engrained in us that it leads in our wider lives.

Right now? This season of anticipation (advent, the coming solstice, all of it…) and this season of endings (calendars might be made up but they’re based on real things like the sun’s travels and the moon’s cycles)… it seems like the perfect season to really practice breathe and wait in our daily lives and rituals.

Instead of hustling more or seeing how much you can get done in these last days of this year (and how do we continue to hear that advice from the whole coaching community still???)… instead of hustling, let’s just stop.

Let’s breathe and wait.

Breathe and wait to see what peace we can find in these quiet darker days.

Breathe and wait to discern what’s working in our lives — from relationships to routines to work to practices of all kinds.

Breathe and wait.

Pause. Observe. Feel. Listen. Just wait.

Breathe and wait is always followed by allow but we’ll let that off to the side for now.

I felt myself going into hustle mode about halfway through November. I was freaking out about projects I didn’t accomplish this year and I was looking for ways to squeeze them in and luckily I noticed and I stopped.

These last days as we wind down are just not the time for that.

I’m going to focus on connection, rest, and simmering.

I’ll be breathing and waiting as I:

• Get back into paper based journaling and planners and what a joy this has been. Slowing down enough to write slowly instead of hammering away at a computer has been both difficult and delightful.

• Read more and more and more. And read more deeply. I’m planning a personal curriculum for the winter semester and I’ll be writing about that some time soon.

• Turn on twinkle lights and light candles and stretch in the evening on the floor with cats milling about.

• Dream about what’s possible without laying down any really solid plans.

• Connect to my loves and my inner circle of peeps.

What about you?

More steps to recovering my healthy brain: my algorithms

I’ve been taking a lot more steps beyond all of my movement to recover my healthier brain. So I’ll be writing about this much more over the coming months.

I had such a great experience of how much we control our algorithms this weekend. We know this, but a lot of the time we're not really owning the responsibility and we blame the platforms but they're just tools. (Please keep in mind that this isn’t about TikTok. That’s just my example.)

So my TikTok started out all fun and dance. I got it right after January 6th to deal with the stress. Over time, it become super politicized and I've been kinda drowning in that every time I go over there... but again... that's because THAT is what *I* was watching and engaging with.

Well, this weekend, I suddenly got obsessed with Journal Tok. This has been slowly seeping into my FYP (for you page/discover space) for some time, but this weekend, I stayed with the videos (and they can be longer form) and I engaged.

About the same time, some literary and philosophy academics had been hanging around my edges too so I started to really watch those. And then the witchy stuff. And some super liberal Catholic peeps.

So now?!?! My TikTok is like some fucking cozy cottage of all of my favorite things.

IT ACTUALLY SOOTHES MY NERVOUS SYSTEM. Yep.

I have more to say about those topics that I'm diving into specifically but this is a reminder that you are in charge of everything you put into your brain and body. (As Thich Nhat Hanh would say.)

I'm not suddenly taking some privileged road and not paying attention to the wider world. I still know all the things that are going on, BUT I have this little space where I can swim in dreams. (And intentionality but more on that soon.)