Nia is in my life to stay!

Pure joy--a Nia class!

Spear Fingers! One of  Nia's 52 moves, one of our favorites--Our LOVE guns!

I might be part of a very small group of people who can say that I really do not want to change anything about my body. Nothing. There's nothing wrong with it, but it's not perfect either. It's just "average." Although, I might be slightly taller and more muscular than the average American 28-year-old. I stick out my rear-end a bit more than most people I know, but that's a bad ballet habit. I don't care. I love my 9 butt muscles. They're pretty awesome. Not only do I not care what my body does or does not look like, I actually love it. For the first time in my life, this isn't a lie, or me telling someone something that just "sounds good."

I've been taking Nia for 7 months now, and when I noticed that the body hatred I had harbored since the age of 8 was slowly melting away into nothing but appreciation and gratitude, I knew that this was way more than just dancing. A part of me didn't want to know, though too. Dancing had become magical again...like it was when I was a little, little girl. Then when I started sobbing after a class in my car driving home, I knew that just dancing wasn't going to suffice for my answer. Parts of me started to show themselves that I had NEVER seen before. Extroversion. Fun. Light-heartedness. Laughter. Self-Compassion...self-compassion...self-compassion.

Tears come to my eyes just writing that. I'd blamed myself for every hurt that had ever fallen down on me. I'd beaten myself up for every bad choice I had ever made. It was safe to say that I hated myself, inside and out. I started noticing "cheesy" things coming out of my mouth. I should say, things that I used to poke fun of because I didn't understand concepts such as self-care, or nurturing. I thought curling up with a warm blanket and reassuring myself was ridiculous because I could only intellectualize that. I couldn't feel anything below my neck (in terms of emotions and feelings). I just ran away from them and starved them into exile. Then after I had "recovered," I thought feelings would kill me, so I tried to therapize them away or take more medications for the anxiety. Then I stared Nia, and somehow I needed less and less medication and didn't really fear my tears anymore. What was going on?!?!

So, I decided to take a Nia White Belt Intensive. I am nothing short of amazed by what I had mistaken for "just dancing." There is no possible way that I can hate my body anymore. I learned so much about the benefits of exercising in the way our bodies were meant to be moved, that I can't possibly abuse mine with that type of over-use and abuse again. I can't imagine not having FUN when I exercise ever again! Underneath this superficial layer of imperfect skin is an amazing, complex, and intricate universe of muscles, tendons, bones, and nerves that function perfectly by design and symbiosis with each other, my emotions, and my brain. It's amazing. To say I am awe-struck would be an understatement. Nia is about more than just dancing and exercising, although it can be. No, a phrase that stuck with me throughout the 6-day training was "sacred athlete." Sacred means being set aside, or designated for one sole and important purpose. A sacred athlete will realize sacredness of the self and only want to exercise in such a way as to create joy and purpose for a healthy and energetic life. Not to mention, there is some pretty amazing music in Nia too! A vast array of songs and routines with amazingly planned choreography that NEVER gets boring, but is comprised of only 52 carefully studied moves. Each move has been designed to create joy of movement in specific bones and/or muscles. All 206 bones, and probably all 640 voluntary muscles get attention in Nia. How cool is that? How can I not want to be a part of this? I do. As if I wasn't hooked before, I am now.

Then there's the profound realization that came to me near the end of the training! We were asked to close our eyes for a minute, wait, and in a few words, describe the most impactful thing about the training for us. What came out of my mouth astounded me. I know it came from somewhere deep inside, somewhere where my brain couldn't tamper with its truth and purity. After less than a minute, a warm smile started in the middle of my body and traveled up my spine. Out of my mouth came a very child-like statement of wonder and appreciation: "That the Body is an amazing and beautiful place. It's not scary at all. It's actually a really cool place to live." It took me until I was driving back home to Milwaukee to realize just how meaningful this is for me. I described it later in my journal like this: 

“If I ever go looking for my heart's desire again, I won't look any further than my own back yard. Because if it isn't there, I never really lost it to begin with.”

― L. Frank Baum, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz

-- I have realized that "home" means something totally different to me now than it ever has before. I can't help but think of this quote (the Wizard of Oz is my favorite movie, but I've misunderstood this quote since the very first time I saw it). Wanting to feel "at home" has never really been about a physical location, a building, or even the other people around me. My longing (and many times, painful aching) to be "home," came from the fact that I never realized that where I LIVE, is inside my body. It's already right here! I ignored that, and thus never, ever feel like I belonged anywhere. Now paying close attention to it, caring for it, listening to it, loving it, and actually taking pride and ownership of it--suddenly it's not hard to hear my heart's desire or feel like I'm right, exactly where I belong. It's actually a pretty amazing place to live. It's so much more than just a shell. It houses something pretty great...in each and every one of us! Each one is a house and a home to unique and individual talent, beauty, and potential. Like Dorothy, I never lost it either. I didn't have to look so hard...it's always been right here. It's a really cool place to live. I'm never leaving home ever again. Thank you body for never leaving me.

Can you walk in my shoes?

I despise wearing shoes, and if I don't have to, I don't. So, I wasn't wearing any yesterday and I think I stepped on something and it is now embedded in my right heel. So, I'm favoring that foot, wearing shoes, and trying to discern whether or not to let this play out a few days and then go to a doctor, or if my heel is just sore from walking around barefoot. Either way, it's currently excruciating, so I am wearing the best pair of shoes I own for awhile--my running shoes. However, I am doing NO running. I hate running. I just like running shoes because they're the most supportive kind of tennis shoes out there, and if I'm going to be walking a lot, or in one of those places that does actually require shoes, I can have comfy ones. These shoes are as loud and obnoxious as I am--neon yellow, pink, and electric blue, with hot pink laces. Loud. Bright. Obnoxiously impossible to color coordinate to any outfit. Thus, they are perfect.

I decided to bike to the pharmacy tonight instead of drive. It's probably no more than 2 miles away, it's a perfect, summer night, and I was sick of driving today. I don't particularly care for driving much either. Today was an exception. I would have driven much further for this cause. Today was the National Eating Disorder Awareness walk in Oconomowoc, Wisconsin. When I was even just still debating whether or not I wanted or was even capable of fully recovering from anorexia, I could have cared less about awareness, prevention or advocacy. I really didn't believe that recovery was anything I would ever truly experience. I couldn't have been more wrong. Lo and behold, I take any opportunity I can get to promote research and prevention for these life-sucking, relationship-demolishing, and joy-killing disorders. I want dieting to be a word that kids learn about in history books, not health classes. I want eating disorders to be diseases that can be prevented, and I actually HATE talking about the depths and dark places. I don't believe in talking about my eating disorder...I'd rather talk about how to let kids be kids, eliminate weight stigma, and promote body gratitude and positive body image. The walk was a success. I saw people in all stages of recovery. Some have left it far behind them, and others walked around scanning and comparing bodies. In some eyes I saw longing and aching for freedom from this, in other eyes I saw fear, and in a few I saw fire. In the picture a friend snapped of me and one of my lovely, kindred-spirit, ballerina friend, I saw in my eyes for the first time in many years, the fire that I thought had burnt out for good. I don't know yet for what that fire burns, but I'm content in waiting for now.

When I left the pharmacy tonight and stood outside the door searching through my bottomless pit of a bag for my bike-lock's key, a woman (a stranger) approached me, and stepped right up to me, touched my shoulder (causing me to look up, startled, from my searching), and said, "Those are some really happy, bright-colored shoes! They just look like really happy colors. I really had to tell you that." I was astounded that someone would actually approach a noticeably preoccupied strange young woman, break her concentration, and compliment the colors of her shoes. It seemed like a lot, and somewhat risky, just for shoes. Then I remember why I like bright colors. I like them because they represent how I feel inside. Loud and obnoxious, perhaps, but mostly just beaming-ly joyful. And there's a funny thing about being joyful; no matter how much of it I give away, I always end up with more than I had when I started. So, if my happy-colored shoes can be an excuse for me to share my joy, bring it on.

NEDA walk 2013 (I'm on the right, my friend Melena is trapped in my hug!)