From the fear and uncertainty and grief of the pandemic, to the rage and fury of the continued racial oppression-terror-erasure in our country, I have asked my creator, “what am I to do or say?”
As an Afro-Asian woman of color, as a trauma survivor, as an elder, I ask it. As a mentor to children, I ask it. As a child of the Universe and the daughter of Arnita, I ask it.
I won’t and can’t cower in fear or lock myself away, secluded in some illusion of security and safety. I won’t incarcerate myself and call it freedom. I won’t lull myself into believing that separation makes whatever I’m reacting to not exist.
I also cannot be swept up fiery emotions. The trauma survivor in me tremors and quivers at the lack of control I know certain situations trigger in me. I lose my wholeness. I react rashly and violently, often leaving a trail of regret.
I stay with my practice.
I return to my altar for meditation and prayer. I seek movement on my yoga mat or in my tai chi forms. I commune with energy and ancestors. I resonate and harmonize with cycles and shifts. I find my place and slip into the stream.
I connect. I plug in. I see. I find myself. I find my God. I share.
That’s what I do. Some call it teaching yoga. Some say I teach meditation. Some say I’m a speaker.
I connect to what feels authentic and true in spirit and in this world and share that. I share that which hopefully won’t create more division or friction. I share the balance of hope and harmony. I share the reminder that we all envision something better, and offer ways to embody and model that now.
I’m working through some things. I’m catalyzing change in my being, my teaching, my voice. Thank you to all who have stuck with me along this journey and for those just joining. When we connect, we share, we learn, we grow, we regenerate, we liberate.
Here’s a little thing I wrote/moved/produced:
I Come to Connect, by Belinda Thurston
I come to connect to my body. Because if I am not in my body in a caring and wholesome way I will come out of it in a non-caring and wholesome way.
It will not be ready for me when I beckon for it; for that burst; for that reach; for that stomp; for that stand.
I come to connect to my breath. To connect to the fullness that it has to fill me. To connect and explore what I am drawing into me with it. To connect to its power and its declaration of vibrant life within me. To allow it to replenish the spacious parts of me when I become too tight.
I come to connect with my mind. To connect with the volume and congestion of thoughts. To observe the areas that are nurturing and healing me. I come to connect with and observe the ones that are toxic but that I am in love with anyway. I come to connect with how my thoughts communicate with my body and my breath. Are they at war? Are they in mutual respect? Do they know one another at all?
I come to connect with the true inner vision I see for myself, not the projection from my mind or the outside world. I come to blow the dust off of that lens for mental clarity and authenticity. I come to be sure of the knowledge of myself.
I come to connect with my spirit. To spend time with one another. To ask it how it is doing? How it is feeling. To ask for guidance. And to give it what it needs. A listening ear. A quiet space to let it be and permeate my being.
I come to connect all of the bits of my being together. I come to invite them to work together in harmony for they represent my essence and that which is essential.
I come to connect with my greater connection to the world and beings and doing good and bad.
I come to connect to my place in the cycles and the urgency of the current.
I come to connect. For clarity. For truth. For community.
I connect to what is worthwhile.
I connect to what deserves my attention.
I connect for my growth and transformation for it liberates us all.
I come to connect