Some explorations 🌙
… Leaning into these questions with curiosity might invite feelings of forgiveness for & a tender understanding of our own nervous systems & the nervous systems of our ancestors. Noticing & welcoming what arises with compassion, reminding ourselves to remain in choice around how deeply we move through these questions. … As we re-imagine ourselves & each other more rested, we create new pathways of being. Over time, being tender with ourselves might just invite us into becoming the embodied medicine that heals what our ancestors could not. … I am (& rest is) a perfectly imperfect work in progress. xo, kat 💛
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As many of us begin transitioning out into the world again, how can we move forward while still holding ourselves (literally)? How can we navigate both reaching & returning?
I attended a small & deeply grounding sangha yoga class today (thank you thank you @rootead ). One of my first ones in person. I noticed I was incorporating self-holding more than usual. Anchoring hands on tender belly. A hand on my warm neck. Feeling my cheek when a spontaneous smile surfaced. This body. This container of experience. A fine balance of being in the world & returning. … There are many ways to explore self-holding (one might be effortless & another not so helpful). Worth a try not only in a warrior pose or on a meditation cushion, but maybe during that first in-person gathering or right before bed—as a way to return back to yourself & affirm what’s right here. … … #selfholding #somatics #traumainformedyoga A love letter to this space of land we bought three years ago & we now call home:
For a long while I wanted to control & manicure you into something that others would find pleasing. For a long while I looked at you from a place of assuming what was best for you, cleaning you up without consideration of why your ivy grew so wild & your grass wouldn’t grow so green. Without a second thought I swept into action but maneuvered from contraction; questioning & doubting you & dominating you. And you covered me in urushiol & contraction right back. And I deserved that. ... I’ve been treating you like my ancestors & amnesia-ridden white bodies have treated every person or thing in their path that brought discomfort. Save it. Fix it. Wipe it out. My relationship with your wooded womb was no different from my relationship to the perfectionism & saviorism of whiteness. All this time I didn’t take one moment to thank you for offering yourself up to a relationship. This land that was never mine to ever rightfully own. Your birdsongs at daybreak. The moss on your fallen branches. Sweetest sherbet sunsets kissing your maple crowns. The life you give with the oxygen you offer. You are a teacher of patience, curiosity, & stories. You never hurry, yet everything gets accomplished. I’m here for you & with you & I’m listening. xo, Kat I am writing this on the land of the Council of the Three Fires – the Ojibwe, the Odawa, & the Potawatomi. These indigenous nations of the Great Lakes region are also known as the Anishinaabe, or original people (Kalamazoo).   I’ve been diving deeply into embodied social change & the messages I’ve been conditioned to uphold as truth. I’ve been sitting with (sometimes spiraling with) all the ways my body holds stories that keep me constricted & often complacent. I’m noticing an attitude of interrogating my body instead of holding my body. Accepting defeat instead of reimagining. Looking outward for a quick fix instead of feeling the rhythm of my own heart.
... What do my actions & my habits uphold? Do they uphold defeatist notions of powerlessness & disconnection? How I show up to my present moment experience either reinforces or interrupts larger systems of dominance & harm. Systems that want me to feel defeated & disconnected. What would it look like to hold myself from a place of curiosity, patience & reimagining? ... For a long time I thought the yogic practice of pratipaksha bhavana (cultivating the opposite) was a way of bypassing situations that needed my attention. I thought it was the whole “I like the light, but not the heat” of spirituality. But it’s not a teaching of distraction or diluting. Lately it has been a vital practice for helping me when I feel stuck. A practice of creating new neural pathways that support a robust nervous system & a capacity to embody possibility in order to reimagine a better world. ... What story are you tangled up in right now? What do you know to be true? .  THIS BOOK. This work of fire & brilliance & truth needs to be required reading for every white cis woman (& humxn in the yoga or wellness world). I feel like most of my copy is underlined, but these words land the closest to home:
... “If I am obsessed with being good & right, then I have no capacity to understand the ways in which I am an oppressed oppressor, nor will I understand those whom I oppress & do what is required to cause less harm & dismantle systems of oppression. You cannot be committed to being good & right & be anti-racist. It just ain’t gonna work, honey.” ... “F*ck. Your. Intentions / Feel. Your. Impact.” ... “You cannot name yourself an ally. Ever. The term is one that can be granted to you by the specifically oppressed group with which you seek to act as an ally.” ... “The only true apology is changed behavior.” ... “Practicing wise compassion & discernment in the name of racial justice is also a practice of disconnecting from collective fear & releasing the need to people please.” ... “It is impossible to fully integrate ourselves under capitalist white supremacy because it inherently requires a disconnection of the mind & body / We need a revolution rooted in radical compassion, & we need to come together to create collective change. Now.” ... “What we choose to do with our pain will define if & how we all survive.” ... ... Buy this book (preferably buy black, indigenous, or local). Read, show up, reread, share, show up, mess up, apologize, & do better. www.rachelricketts.com/my-book / this offering has been a support for me as of late—connecting with & leaning into (literally) different parts of my brain & my experience. i hope it’s helpful for you—lots of love, kat 💛 I miss teaching in-person group yoga classes. I miss the community of faces & hugs & spontaneous heart chats after class. I miss traveling to gather with students to speak about the power of trauma-informed yoga & the beauty of its intersection with social justice/our collective liberation.
... 2020 deepened my love for individualized yoga therapy work & I’m enjoying zoom sessions in all their messiness—absolutely. But it is a shift indeed. The digital/virtual stuff has never been my forte (& as soon as I feel like I’m understanding it all, something like Instagram reels comes along and I’m like whhhhhhhhhat is happeniiiiing). … But with a new year comes a new opportunity to share & connect in new ways. The ideas & insights behind this post certainly aren’t just mine, but I live them & believe in them wholeheartedly. … If you’re a yoga or movement teacher, perhaps try incorporating one offering and see how it shifts your teaching. If you’re a yoga student (or human), know that you deserve choice & a felt sense of safety on and off your yoga mat. I’m here via the contact link if you’d like to dive deeper. xo, kat ... As shifts in plans occur (again) and shorter, colder days arrive (on this piece of the planet), it can be so hard to navigate it all. Winter brings with it an offering to see what has been hiding behind our colorful coverings—there might be heightened feelings of anxiety, disconnect, & rigidity. But even in that rawness I promise there is wisdom.
... If you’re seeking practices of embodiment & nurturance, please reach out. As I near the end of my yoga therapy studies, I can’t express how powerful it has been to share yogic frameworks from a place of deep listening & collaborative healing. My teachings will be virtual for some time, but always rooted in trauma-informed & anti-oppressive approaches. ... Intake is free.
As someone who didn’t always feel settled in more traditional mindfulness practices (like simply focusing on the breath), I wanted to share (sped up a bit) three different offerings for anchoring your awareness. Even though I use all three offerings here, feel free to choose one that might be of the most support today.
Eyes can remain softly open or closed. Explore for as many breaths as you’d like. ... The first practice is an invitation to move the hands away (laterally) & back towards each other with the inhale & exhale. Inviting expansion with every inhale & gentle drawing inward with every exhale. This helps me connect with the sweet natural movement of my rib cage. ... The second practice is an invitation to, with the palms facing each other, move one hand up to the sky & the other down to the earth on the inhale & then back to the center on the exhale. This might be helpful to feel a balance between lightness & anchoring to the earth. ... The third practice is an opportunity to experience gathering the hands up on the inhale & pushing the hands away from you on the exhale. The breath can remain the focus here or it might feel empowering to imagine gathering up something that feels overwhelming/stuck in the body & then pushing it away/letting it go (maybe with a sigh or sound). ... There are many pathways to healing. I hope you find one that supports & celebrates all of you. ... ... #worldmentalhealthday #shouldbeeveryday #traumainformedyoga I hope you can find—however brief or quiet—moments of tender presence. A hand on your heart. Anchoring back home to your breath. More time with that friend who holds space for your unraveling. More time with that author who calls you to compassionate action. Let these moments of tender presence support the wisdom of your body (even the “messy” feelings of rage & grief).
... Your rage & your grief are not excessive; they are honest & sacred kindling. ... ... #vote |
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