Category: down by the river

To each her own

Retreats are wonderful things. I mean the ones where a bunch of people go to a beautiful location for an intensive experience of something or other, with lots of togetherness. I’ve been on quite a few. From summer art camps to meditation/yoga/martial arts retreats across Europe. Now I’m finally ready to stop forcing myself to sign up for them. You see, being in a group drains my energy and if I’m deprived of the time I need to restore that energy, I get ill. Surrounded by so many happy campers, I’ve always felt there must be something wrong with me. If only I would be stronger, less sensitive, more relaxed, I would be able to keep up with the others. But there’s nothing wrong with me. Where does it say that growth (or enlightenment) can only be found in this intensive group setting? I understand now that just because something is good, it does not automatically mean that it is good for me. To each her own way and her own prayer. Or as a beautiful voice once whispered in my ear: you only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. For me that is doing a little practice down by the river every day.

the way of play

Kung Fu Panda is one of my favourite films. I’ve watched it more times than I can count — enchanted by its humour, its wisdom, and the idea that what’s meant for you will find you. So when I joined a kung fu school, everything seemed to fall into place. I loved the training. I worked hard. I gave things up for it. I told myself: this is the way. But the path isn’t always a straight line. Sometimes it curves like a river. Sometimes it carries you somewhere you never meant to go. When things eventually fell apart (there are no accidents!), I followed a wild instinct and stepped into a capoeira class. I moved. I sang. I played. And something shifted. I realised I am not a panda. Kung fu is a beautiful art, but it never quite reached all the branches of my oak tree. Capoeira did. Now I’m learning to fight and to dance, to sing and to fall, to move in rhythm with others and with myself. It’s not about mastery, but about resonance. What feeds my practice, feeds my art. What lights me up, lights the path.