Can I read you sumn?

Hiiiiii,

This week I am feeling super grateful, and I just have to share that with y’all. The comments, the likes, the email replies, the DMs, the listens without sayin nuthin, allathat! It really fills me up with so much joy, and you have no idea how encouraging it is to see that, to feel that. Thank you for sharing your breath practice with me and sharing this podcast with your people. It means the world to me.

Since I started this, I’ve been feeling COURAGEOUS. I word I have never used to describe my state of being in my entire life. Fuck, I’m still learning what that evens means and how that word lands in my body. Do I feel courageous in my chest? In my belly? In my fingertips? How does courage show up for you?

On Monday, we Curious Embodiment Flow over at Inner.Play. This week, can we explore frustration? Where does it live inside of us? How do we know the difference between hurt and feeling stuck? What is my frustration teaching me? When will I know when I am ready to release its presence? If you can’t make the live session, you will receive a recording afterwards. At the end of the series, I will email a notion with the recordings, prompts, playlists and resources that inspired each sesh.

You can find this week’s transcript here and if you’re interested in reading the essay in it’s entirety, I have added it to the Lavender Orange digital library. 🦋

Above is an image of a concrete round table adorned with colored tiles with corresponding benches. The vantage point suggests the viewer is gazing upon the table without being seen. Past the table greenery frames the scene of the ocean and large, wet, brown rocks. This is the table I sat at during the recording. Not pictured, hundreds of ants, dozens of lizards and birds, and just past this scene was a beautiful Black woman with long ass box braids gently grazing her ass building a sand castle.

A birds eye view of the table, teal, North Carolina blue, banana yellow, terracotta, and sea foam green broken tiles sit inside of the cement. A copy of In Search of Our Mothers’ Gardens lies on top of the table, lavender cover, purple binding with yellow post-it notes peeking out. This version was printed in 1977.