How are our sweet humans this summer?

Something about the warm sun on my skin, the playing outside with friends, the dips in the river, the hikes to the lake, just bring out the human in me. I’m reminded of how precious these days truly are and love nothing more than to be sweet and lazy, covered in sticky watermelon juice.

A dear friend and client of mine recently experienced a “peak” moment in her journey. I’ll share an image to help explain:

My piano teacher was so fond of this concept. At least once a year I would become egregiously disimpassioned with the instrument, stuck on a challenging piece with technique so intricate my fingers would twist and I would bang helplessly on the keys. My very first teacher had told me I had no talent (a bizarre affirmation to gift a small child) and so when these days came I would repeat her words to white-haired Mr. Scott. Every single time he would grab the black and white composition book off the bench, turn to a new page, and begin drawing a curvy line – his mountains and hills.

“You’re right here” he would say, pointing to the spot halfway up the mountain, illustrating my climb. “But don’t forget, you’ve been here before” moving his wrinkled, club-like finger to the mountain halfway up the range and then sliding it to the next highest, “and soon, you’ll be here!” his voice rising in excitement. I would sigh and hold back the tears that threatened. But he was always right. Some random tuesday morning I would wake up to the tune in my head. I would dance down the stairs and swing around the banister propelling myself to slide down the piano bench. I would lift my curved fingers over the keys, wiggle my hips and then shoulders, and grin. As my fingers gently touched the smooth keys the piece would erupt from my hands, playing me, as opposed to the other way around. At my senior recital as his student I played a professionally demonstrative piece that earned me a standing ovation, the sounds bounced off the vaulted ceiling of the church erasing my first teacher’s declaration forever.

My dear friend was stuck in the climb for ages. She described moments of pleasure, of celebration, but lamented that for the majority of her existence she had felt disillusioned with her humanity. And still she persisted. She sought teachers and trainings, pursued an understanding of the human experience beyond any other I’ve known, and often, her growth led to more discomfort as she became aware of patterns of her life needing an unraveling. And still she persisted. Her pack so heavy, her shoes worn to the soles, she called on community to carry her when she faltered, audibly wondering if this agony would ever end. And still she persisted.

And then one night, two weeks ago, she felt an invitation to shift. She considered every tool she had gathered, every lesson learned, and she danced. Her fingers gently touched her smooth skin, tapping in rhythm, inviting her nervous system to co-create her new melody. All alone in her studio apartment, she danced into being the human life she had craved.

The next morning, all was different. She gleefully reported her success, her transformation, her “human birth” she jokingly called it. “I’m a new baby human” she giggled, finding joy in what used to be mundane, seeing so many details of her journey with new clarity.

“What’s so different?” I asked her, sharing her infectious grin.

“Everything.” She replied with a very bright shrug. “But the core of it? I love myself. Like this human self. I love her.”

So often we become caught in the ethereal. The signs and their meanings, the “right” path and the “wrong”. So often we seek another teacher, another self-help book, another problem to fix. It is human nature, after all. And in that is the key: the human.

What epiphanies have you yet to integrate? What gems have yet to find their place in this earthly home? Or do you just need a buddy for this mountain climb?

Or maybe, just maybe, do you need to be oh-so-watermelon-sticky, a lazy human, in the sunshine.

This session season is coming to an end for us so soon. What wild and powerful and meaningful and subtle transformations we’ve embarked upon together. I am honored beyond what my sweet little human body can understand to witness your becoming.

If my invitation above sounds like a faint melody ready to burst forth, I am waiting for you.

By your side,

This letter was sent via email to subscribers on August 8, 2024. Join the email list to get the next one in your inbox!