yesterday a wee group of us gathered under the unusually bright and warm october sun to picnic. we are yoga teachers and practitioners, teachers, social workers, artists. but more importantly, we are humans who love other humans. we gathered together to talk and share and explore and start something. we are not quite sure what that something is yet, but we know we want to serve, connect, share, give, support, advocate and ally.
we know that our practice has power. and we want to share that with those who do not have access to or feel comfortable going to a traditional yoga studio.
so we explored our intentions and our privilege and did some inner work and then softly committed to keep moving forward.
when everyone had left to go about their individual weekends, i stood still in the silence and peace of the space (sacred space really, i just learned of the civil rights history of the grounds where we gathered, and that martin luther king, jr himself had once come here to connect with and pay respects to its keepers) and just knew that this is what i am here to do. you think that when you have a "this is what i am here to do" moment, it would be momentous, the emotional equivalent of a confetti cannon and exuberant marching band. instead, it felt quietly normal and certain and resonant with full-body luminosity.
i hope they felt this too.
"if you have come here to help me, you are wasting your time.
but if you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together."