DESCRIPTION

I have always been drawn to the writings, stories, artwork and holy scriptures describing the mystical wheel of life. I paid attention to my inner stories, dreams and memories of lifetime after lifetime within my bones. I would recognize previously unseen images as familiar or causing an unexplained emotional response. As I became grounded in the body through the 5Rhythms practice my fascination continued to grow.

I notice how much of our struggles are carried generation to generation veiled as our own personal wounds. Embodying our maternal and paternal ancestral legacy allows us to celebrate that which enriches our soul and release with compassion that which we need not carry

Dancing in the chaotic soup of our ancestors, their prayers, their lies, their secrets, their joys, we can emerge with the lightness of clarity, shedding the ancient binds that hold us down and drawing out the medicine that will serve us for manifesting that which is yet to come. Creating rituals and the sacred intention to honor our ancestors allows us to release them from our chains, and creates the space for both freedom and mystery to ignite the present moment. 

I love to return to the Cycles map over and over to uncover the mysteries of this wild wheel of life!

"Life is a journey. Its route is essentially the same for everyone, even though we start in different settings and with different baggage." -- Gabrielle Roth

In this Cycles workshop we unlock the trunks that hold our memories, our ancestor’s dreams, the beliefs and disbeliefs of those that walked before us be it in our blood or in our home. From our conception to our death, we will sort through the mysteries within our trunks of treasures to meet with grounded bodies, tended hearts and open minds, what may have been stored and hidden for generations.

"The Yellow Dot"   by Robert Bly

God does what she wants. She has very large

Tractors. She lives at night in the sewing room

Doing stitchery. Then chunks of land at mid-

Sea disappear. The husband knows that his wife

Is still breathing. God has arranged the open

Grave. That grave is not what we want,

But to God it’s a tiny hole, and he has

The needle, draws thread through it, and soon

A nice pattern appears. The husband cries,

“Don’t let her die!” But God says, “I

Need a yellow dot here, near the mailbox.”

The husband is angry. But the turbulent ocean

Is like a chicken scratching for seeds. It doesn’t

Mean anything, and the chicken’s claws will tear

A Rembrandt drawing if you put it down.