I want to talk about meditation, but first a couple of things:
If you have a classic sitting meditation practice that works for you, great. That's you. #ExperimentofOne And I don't want this to turn into a discussion about how that works.
And to be clear, I have studied with some of the leaders in the field of somatic psychologies. For a long time. They would agree with what I'll say here.
Meditation is (like everything) not for everyone, but it can actually be dangerous if you're still in the worst parts of anxiety, depression, OCD, CPTSD, and many other mental illnesses.
I've said this in person enough times to know that some of you probably just breathed a sigh of relief, thinking there was something inherently wrong with you because meditation feels so impossible. There's nothing wrong with you when it comes to meditation. Meditation is just not necessarily right for you... for right now. (And that might be forever, depending.)
Stay with me here...
Whether or not you've experienced physical or sexual abuse of any kind (and especially then), if you're someone suffering from mental illness, the BODY ITSELF does NOT feel safe.
To SIT in the body and watch the mind CAN BE like throwing gasoline on a fire.
And this is where movement practices come in.
For all of my 20s and 30s, people would tell me to meditate to help with my depression, etc.
And I was one of those who thought there must be something even more wrong with me because it made me feel worse.
THEN I started to dance again. And FINALLY my mind could quiet in that context.
Keeping the body moving, focusing on the breath, and focusing a lot of the brain on a problem solving prompt (a simple example: make as many circles in space with your body as you can)... this quiets the part of the brain that often felt like it was out to get me (my metaphorical experience... insert your own here).
Furthermore, over time and I mean TIME (months to many many years), your brain creates new neural clusters and pathways marked "body is safe to feel."
This happens BECAUSE you are working with someone (like me perhaps) who can create safe ways for you to be in your body feeling all the things, bit by bit... I watch for overwhelm of the system and pull you back when that happens.
Because re-traumatizing is not the damn goal. Which CAN happen if you're sitting in your own nest of awful during meditation with no one there to bring you out of it.
As Gabrielle Roth said, most of our problems were created and exacerbated in the brain/mind; we can't use that same tool for healing. At least and especially not during the initial phases of healing, which again, can go on for many years.
The movement work I teach is not some once in a while thing to be done when you're feeling extra bad or extra good. It's a lifetime practice of tools to be used over and over as we go through new and challenging experiences.
And I have to add ... part of the healing is due to the COMMUNITY aspect of the work. RELATIONSHIP is where true healing happens.
The Lie of Effort Bringing Reward
I’m pretty used to chronic pain. Or I should say that I’ve had a lot of time in my life where it was the norm. Then I started to dance at 40 and I got rid of most of it for the majority of that decade.
Something might come up here and there but I made a little effort around it and it was gone in no time.
Because that’s how things work, right? You put in effort and you get rewarded.
No.
SOMETIMES that is how things work. Sometimes rewards simply are not on their way no matter what you do.
My strong and very healthy shoulders six years ago.
There can be a million reasons for this, unique to each human, but when we assume that effort brings reward, this leads to the moralizing of effort which then leads to judgement of humans we think are not “efforting” enough.
It’s the basis of all ableism (and of toxic capitalism that says enough effort can bring wealth to anyone no matter what but I’m focusing on body issues here and that is a whole book in and of itself).
This year, I’ve been dealing with a shoulder tear. Not bad enough to warrant surgery (which I want to avoid and my doctor agrees) but bad enough that I lost a ton of mobility and was in constant pain and had a hard time sleeping etc. I got a shot and that helped enough to let me start doing serious P.T. on myself.
Which has increased my mobility but I’m still only at a B grade.
Now, I’ve always been extremely mobile and very strong, so my idea of an A grade is different than a majority of humans, but I’m not willing at this age to give up on that. Because that’s a slippery slope right there.
All of that brings me to a few nights ago when I was crying to Craig about the progress I was making not being enough and not being fast enough and what if this is IT!?!?
That’s when it really hit me that I’ve always bought into the ableist crap of effort = reward.
Any doctor I’ve ever had for issues like this can’t get over the effort I put in. They say “no one does that. People want pills and surgery.”
I work hard and I’m consistent. And I stay consistent over long periods of time. I am stubborn in those good ways (and some bad ones but alas…).
And still… with all my stubborn consistency, hard work, and the knowledge I have about what to do and how, I am still not healed.
There are two things here that I want to emphasize.
First, sometimes we think we’re not getting the reward for our effort because it’s happening too slowly and in too small increments to notice. So we give up or we dilute our efforts and this then proves to us that we are not succeeding and “SEE!?!? This is why it’s not worth it!!! NOTHING is happening!” Self fulfilling prophecy type stuff.
I myself — Ms. Stubborn — have been tempted to give up in this very way.
Second, sometimes we’re simply not going to succeed. Sometimes things are worse than people can know. Sometimes there are circumstances that simply cannot be overcome.
This is hard. As a culture, we want to believe that there’s always the possibility of success.
But sometimes the success we need is the redefinition of what that looks like for us, the altering of expectations, the release of a strict goal so that we can move forward and start in a new way.
I believe that there’s ALMOST always room for improvement and space to create new mobility and strength, but sometimes this will look different than we want it to, and that’s got to be okay.
The Betrayal of Self and The Rebuilding of Trust
There are a lot of reasons we can't "hear" our body's wisdom anymore. One of the most common? Learning from an early age that our desires/needs weren't to be our primary concern/responsibility but instead that we were supposed to focus on being a certain way to fulfill others' needs.
This happens to almost everyone in one way or another, but for some, it’s more directly intense and much more destructive of the sense of self that’s crucial to individuation and a sense of fulfillment.
Learning to listen again can feel scary, for sure. It can feel totally overwhelming. We can feel like the emotions that come with it are too much. Or perhaps we have simply decided we aren't worth the effort.
The Peony Method is gentle and it takes time but eventually? All of this can and will change.
We must start with simply allowing the body to be what it is in this moment. We spend a lot of our lives in this culture trying to manipulate the body into a certain form or action, only to then get angry at the body for not doing so or not doing so quickly enough.
We are betraying ourselves in those moments and so trusting starts right there.
Trusting starts with acknowledging, noticing, allowing, and eventually? Being fascinated. I’ve seen it thousands of time — women thinking they’d never be able to feel fascination within their own bodies “UNLESS…” (fill in the blank… they were thinner, stronger, had this or that…). But they’re always wrong. And delighted to be so.
It won’t happen over night, but over time… with patience and commitment to practice.
Remembering to use The Peony Method on MYSELF because... it works (duh and oy)
From pre-Craig in my Girl on Fire Movement Studio, Erie, PA
There has been so much change over the last six years that I don’t think I could list it all. It started with meeting Craig and then from there it has been this wild roller coaster ride from moving to Vermont to moving back to Erie to experiencing some really painful things to moving to Columbus and then buying a new house and then losing my sweet Peony most recently.
That doesn’t even really begin to cover it, and in the meantime, I lost my daily dance practice. ME. The teacher of daily dance.
For about 8 years, between teaching and then doing my own practice, I was dancing anywhere from 2 to 6 hours a day. You read that right. It typically was around 3 but it could easily be in that 2 to 6 range depending on the day.
Let’s back up even more…
About 13 years ago ((!!!)), when I first started to dance again, just putting on my favorite music and moving was enough. There was so much joy in my body that was aching to be expressed and I had been away from dance due to that shitty chronic depression for so long that it took very little to get me going again.
Then I started to train and I realized I was really missing moving with other humans so then just being with other humans in a class was enough to get me going.
Over time and through working with so many different populations (from traumatized children to people living with Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s and everyone in between), through all my studies in somatic psychologies and different movement modalities, I’ve composted and then synthesized and recreated and grown new ways of working with people to process trauma and grief and move into their joybodies.
This has evolved into the newly named, Peony Method.
After Peony died, I knew it was more important than ever to get my personal dance practice back. I’d been trying for a couple of years but it wasn’t clicking.
Then I had a big AH-HA moment… just the other day…
I’ve been just putting on good or interesting music and then expecting myself to, well, move.
And I get bored or distracted or just feel lethargic and apathetic.
But not when I teach. When I teach, I also move. And I never have a hard time getting going or staying moving.
Why?
BECAUSE I’M FOLLOWING MY OWN DAMN PROMPTS.
Which are GOOD and serve a damn purpose! (I’m yelling at myself there and laughing at myself at the same time.)
Telling people to “just dance” isn’t the answer.
People are stuck. They feel numb. They’re tired. They’re sad. They’re disconnected. I include myself there.
They’ve lost any understanding of really being EMBODIED, of being able to find PLAY.
It’s the whole freaking reason I have designed the work I have.
Now my dance practice will move forward because I’ll TEACH MYSELF. I’ll use my prompts.
This will lead, of course, to learning new ways to teach and prompt because I won’t feel stuck, numb, lethargic, or disconnected.
Instead, I’ll feel interested, curious, fascinated, playful.
Duh.
And OY.
Things Pretty Much Suck and Yet We Still Must...
I’m writing this the day after the Texas fuckery. I don’t have the capacity to really write about that yet. I’m seething.
It feels like the world is just falling apart… or imploding… Like I said, I don’t have the words yet.
Which makes me feel like, oh, right, duh… movement.
Isadora Duncan was once asked what one of her dances MEANT, and she said, “If I could tell you then I wouldn’t need to dance.”
Exactly.
At times like this, it can be easy — for me anyway — to succumb to an externally created depression. To just give up. Lay down. Do nothing.
Which is what evil shits want, right?
Getting into these bodies and feeling the anger and the grief and the overwhelm is the only way. Once we do that, we can start transforming that energy into something to counter what’s happening — even just in tiny bits at a time.
Like in that image to the right… I was working some serious stuff out there. Without the need for words.
Anyway… like I said… I’m feeling pretty quiet.
But if you need space to move and be with others, the next session starts on Tuesday, September 7th.
All the yoga and movement art are right here.
AND remember that you can participate live or use the video whenever you want.
AND FEEL FREE TO WRITE TO ME TO ASK ABOUT A DROP IN IF YOU’RE CURIOUS ABOUT WHAT WE DO.
August Movement Art: Thursday Evening (Or Use the Video)
REMINDER: Go here to learn HOW to do these Zoom classes. Classes are live but are recorded so you do not have to be present during the live. You also can be present and not have your camera on if you’re uncomfortable for any reason.
NO EXPERIENCE NECESSARY. CAN BE MODIFIED FOR ANY BODY.
August THURSDAYS
Time: 5:30 to 6:30 PM (Eastern United States time)
Dates: August 12, 19, 26, September 2
Cost: $65
The PATTERN of class (if you’re new to this):
Class always starts on the floor (or in a chair), exploring circular and spiral movements, especially in the spine. This is the most that the class is led in any traditional sense of that word.
For most people, the class is done either with closed eyes or downcast eyes so that they can focus on themselves and not be distracted. This is not a dance class with mirrors where people are staring at you and you’re being judged and corrected. (If I haven’t already made that clear.)
From that beginning, we make our way through explorations of joints, muscles, and segments of the body. No matter how long you take these classes, we’re always looking to learn something new about ourselves and these bodies. We try to approach our movement art practice each week as if we've never done it before.
Finally we start playing with the poetry of the body… FEELING our way into moving, followed by either some partner or group work to reground in community. (Yes, even virtually this can be done.)
If you have any questions, please feel free to contact me here, on Facebook, or via email.
Chronic Pain is Exhausting... Duh...
I’m privileged in that not only do I have access to excellent healthcare, but I have, for large parts of my life, had extra quick access due to family connections to medicine. So this Thursday, I get to see a top rated ortho guy for my shoulder, and I am so grateful.
It has not always been like this for me, especially when I needed it most. From my late 20s until about 40, I was constantly spiraling in and out of serious depressive episodes, and when I wasn’t just trying to survive, I was still not healthy or happy. During this time, I also had constant, ever-changing chronic pain and migraines.
I believe in my case that the depression and chronic pain fed each other, growing from and then into each other, back and forth.
You might be someone who understands this enough to know then that I had little energy for anything but living.
That’s what chronic illness and pain does to you — forces you into a basic level of living, and all the while, the world around us does not allow for that in any way. You’re still expected to be a good little producer of work and maker of money. It’s a wonder that more of us do not fall through the cracks than already do.
Right now, my issue is independent of my most recent cycle of depression… or is it?
Because when we’re depressed, it’s really hard to get ourselves literally moving, and in that context, you’re simply more likely to experience pain or injury.
Then pain and injury makes you less likely to move and thus increases your depression.
It is truly a vicious downward spiral.
Which is why it’s important that we talk about it more, that we ask each other for help, that we do everything we possibly can to move something.
Move something… what the hell do I mean?
Move SOMETHING… ANYTHING.
I’ve had students with such serious knee issues that they couldn’t stand to dance and so they worked from chairs. Those students were of all ages.
I’ve worked with elders post stroke and serious illness, who danced with whatever they could in their body in a wheelchair.
And then there’s me… fighting this fight right now on a lesser level, for sure but still…
Some days, I want to just lie down and GIVE UP. Just lie down and say fuck it.
That’s the old and dangerous depression lurking, seeing its chance to pounce.
But instead, after all these years and all of this learning and all those students who worked so hard at my beckoning, I cannot give into that.
I get up and walk.
I do the movement that I CAN.
And what I can leads to what I thought I couldn’t.
I see you
I remember the very first time I saw into someone so deeply that I realized I was seeing a very young version of them. It happened during my first training at Kripalu, before I started teaching, as I witnessed a woman dancing.
That’s when I realized that this work I was about to embark upon was/is profoundly sacred.
The act of seeing another human — actually and fully seeing them — is profoundly sacred.
And when you are vulnerable enough to allow for that seeing, we are in communion together, bringing forth your truth.
I don’t think I can describe the work I do — the work we do together — any better than that last sentence.
I make the space for that bringing forth to happen by giving you the opportunity and the tools to be that vulnerable. I give you a method and a process through which you can explore yourself and all your parts and experiences… wordlessly, with no need to explain or make excuses or even to “try to understand.”
I also make space for you to process and transmute all of this, to make space for it inside yourself, to create wholeness, and to really know your strength.
If that’s not “church” or “temple” or “ritual,” I don’t know what is.