My Body Doesn't Need A Reason

My ideal customer.

Are you my ideal customer?

(The other day I was holding a puppy in a pet store and kept asking her “are you my dog?” I figured if I had to ask, the answer was probably no.)

This weekend I am throwing the party of the year: Intro to Qoya teacher training.  I have a few spots left, and I thought to myself this morning, “what would my ideal customer want to hear that would make them decide to come?”

Then I slapped myself in the face.

Qoya.  Nuff' said. 

Because that is simply not how we roll here at the School of Charm and Cheek.  When I write a piece, it is because I have a story I want to tell you.  Not because that story relates to whatever product is on the proverbial shelf that week, which might convince you to buy it.  I can smell that a mile away, and I know you can, too.  However, this week I do have a story to tell you, and it is about Qoya.  And while I do want to fill those spots with gorgeous, extraordinary, legendary women, I don’t want women there because they were seduced by hearing exactly what they wanted to hear.  The kind of seduction we practice is not like that.  The only women I want in that room are the women who have been called…where my words are simply an affirmation of their inner voice. 

So, without further ado, sit at my feet.  Lounge on a pillow as a sister strokes your hair.  Let me tell you a story….

Like most children, when I was young, I wished for supernatural powers.  I was, for the most part, convinced that I had them.  I could turn a rock into a crystal ball, a flat stone into a tablet on which I would communicate secret messages with my fairy Godmother.  The grave of my hamster was not some kid’s tribute to her furry friend.  It was a sacred, ancient burial ground that demanded respect. 

My supernatural powers felt most distinct when I would shoot out our back door like a bullet from a gun, screen door slamming behind me, lunging at my swing set/jungle gym with a ferociousness that I think made it brace for it’s own self.  I would hang upside down for hours and attempt death defying feats from the highest pole.  The slide? Please.  Don’t waste my time.  Give me the rings or give me death.

My fairy Godmother has always resembled Anjelica Huston in Mists of Avalon. 

Looking back now, I am able to see that my most potent magic would happen when I was enjoying my body.  Somewhere along the line, as it does with most young girls, that magic was tucked away.  For my own protection and the protection of the world around me, my feminine magic was locked in a chest.  But you know that fairy Godmother of mine.  She is one cheeky little minx.  She didn’t throw the key away like the culture would have her do.  She simply hid it in the folds of her dress, and eventually gave it to a friend of mine, to be given back to me when time was right. 

That friend is Rochelle Schieck.  Rochelle is Qoya’s founder. I’ve known Ro for several years and have been blessed to watch Qoya’s evolution.  About a year ago, I felt called to become a Qoya teacher. I want to let you in on one of the thousands of rewards that have come from making that decision.

This past weekend, I had one of the biggest ruptures of my life.  A relationship that I thought was going one way turned out to be going the complete opposite way.  I was blindsided. But was I really? Here’s the thing. When I received this news, I wasn’t so much shocked as I was relieved that my mind had finally caught up with my body. 

You see, my body knew all along what was really going on.  But because I couldn’t use logic to explain that feeling, I decided to let the outside world convince me that it was a feeling to be ignored. However, the nature of feelings is this: just like the key to that chest hidden in my fairy Godmother’s skirt, they never really get thrown away. They simply get altered. We adapt around them.  Kind of like the way the body can grow and adapt around a bullet after one has been shot.

Well, this weekend the bullet was pulled out.  And strangely, what fills this hole now, alongside tremendous grief, is a sense of relief and validation.  My body was right all along.  This has been the lesson of this experience: my body is always right.  She doesn’t need a reason.  She doesn’t need to explain. She may not offer words, but the feeling she offers is more than reason enough.

 

Solo Qoya in the desert

Where I learned this lesson most profoundly is in the Qoya classroom.  Had I not heard the messages of Qoya echo in my ears a thousand times “if it feels good, that is how you know you are doing it right; feel everything; there is no way you can do this wrong,” I would probably be clinging to trying to make the outcome of this situation different than it is.  But thanks to Qoya, I know the physical sensations of letting go, embracing the unknown, and doing what feels good, trusting that that will take me where I need to go.  And because I know what those feel like, I know how to put them into action

Last night I almost cancelled Qoya because I was feeling so sad.  But I forced myself to go, and waiting for me there was the bosom of my fairy Godmother herself, found in the magic of dancing, shaking, saluting the sun, sensing, feeling and surrendering. I left there remembering what it feels like for everything to be ok. 

If this story speaks to you, if my words resonate with the words that live in your heart, I invite you to join me and a badass group of dancing revolutionaries this weekend.  There is no experience necessary.

You are stronger than you think you are. 

More creative.

More brilliant. 

More courageous. 

More wise.

Through movement, we remember.

Qoya teachers are the leaders in remembering.

We remember that as women, our essence is wise, wild and free.