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