For the first time in years I’m on a diet.
It’s called La Dieta and it’s a Shaman diet designed to prepare my body for the work I’ll be doing on my trip to Peru next week.
One of the items I have to restrain from is violent & disturbing TV (basically everything on nowadays) and so this morning I decided it’s finally time to watch Moana, the Disney animated film I’ve had my eye on for a year now.
And now I’m writing this with leftovers tears in my eyes.
Because you guys, it’s soooo good. I know I’m late to the party but if you haven’t seen it, it’s on netflix. Just sayin’… Also below is a link to my favorite song on the soundtrack. I highly recommend blasting it now while you read!
(And if you have seen the film, stay with me, I’ve still got something for you.)
Without spoiling anything for you, this film encompasses many themes but the one that stood out to me and brought me to my knees was about how the destruction happening in our world today is really about people forgetting who they truly are. And the importance of remembering our essence and the lineage from which our DNA came from.
I say all this because lately I’ve really been feeling more and more like the journey we are on individually and collectively, is less about discovering new horizons and more about discovering new ways in which to remember what was.
And for me, as you all know, that is dancing. My favorite way to return back to my body. Back to her wisdom. Back to her voice. Back to her deep knowing.
When I dance, I feel connected to everything. And one thing that I particularly feel connected to is all the women in my family who have come before me. And so between Moana’s magical grandmother character, La Dieta and actually h.w. we got from the Shaman to write a letter to our grammas, I found myself inspired this morning. And I wanted to share it with you:
“Dear Teta (my gramma on my Lebanese side),
Every time I circle my hips and feel the earth on the floor underneath me, I can feel your mom, and her mom and her grandmother dancing in the desert – feet dirty and hair filled with sand. I can feel our Kurdish, nomadic free spirit treading through the lands. And everytime I weep and really allow myself to sit with my pain, I hear the wail of the gypsy and the sorrow of our women vibrating through my lungs and expelling out of my throat. Thank you. I love you.
Dear Oma (my gramma on my German side),
Every time I find myself challenged with my tight hips and contraction in my body, I feel reverence for your silent struggle, and your pain and your courage. Know that every time I lace my thigh-high boots I go to battle for you and your mom and her mom and all the women before us who were silenced. Every time I kick and stomp and pull myself up on a pole it is to celebrate my freedom to change my DNA and heal my tired cells so that my daughter can have liberated hips and a deep trust that her erotic energy is safe and beautiful. Thank you. I love you.”
This remembering, this connection to where we came from can help us connect to where we are going. And to me, this has been the most poetic, the most grueling and the most clearing work I’ve ever done on my journey.
This is what I’m heading out to Peru to explore and this is what we’ll be weaving into the retreat I’m hosting in Santa Fe in September. A reverence for your body, your breath, your sisters and your work in the world.
If you’re feeling the call, you can apply to join us here. And we have some sweet savings for you until July 17.
And if the time isn’t right for you now, I invite you to write a letter to your grandmother or dance a dance for her. You never know what will appear for you.
This is the Moana soundtrack song that I basically have on repeat right now.