Use the practice and let it use you.

Sometimes I think of this practice as a way to clean house, as the sweat pours, I’m dusting shelves and sweeping scattered thoughts. Sometimes I use it as a tool in my belt, to check in with myself, trusting myself. Sometimes I bring it out for the fun of it; to make shapes connecting to the child within, unafraid to play, not tethered to worry of scraped knees and flops. Sometimes it’s maddening, challenging, edging myself to allow shit to bubble up and empty out, it’s the place that gurgles and gnaws that begs a release. Sometimes it’s to connect with my breath as though I’d forgotten air, filling and expelling. Sometimes it’s serious. Sometimes I don’t want it. Sometimes it’s my boost, to lift me out of my ever-grounding, much too earthy ways. Sometimes it’s it’s just because. Sometimes I like it at home alone or while the little-big man runs about and climbs all over me. Sometimes the studio practice calls and the surrender to a guidance of another that inspires and gives me space. Sometimes it’s to bring back my spirit. Sometimes it’s to melt and clunk around, sometimes it’s to be smooth and dancer-like.

Most of the time, I use the practice to bring forth what’s hidden underneath, unseen, or untouched. Because I want to move through, and feel, and notice, and touch myself during moments that are guided by my breath tuning in to the caged beat-drumming vessel of life. 

It doesn’t matter why. It doesn’t care why. It doesn’t need anything other than my presence. And it’s never meant to be the same