Sliding into your inbox to catch the last hours of this day that commemorates a time of radical and resplendent renewal. I took this glorious shot of setting sun a couple weeks ago when visiting the hills of my birth and original belonging.

So many cultures have described the descent/emergence story, making resurrection a universal human experience. Long before Jesus came on the scene was Egyptian Isis, Summerian Innana (also 3 days, incidentally), Greek Persephone and Anatolian Cybele (and lover, Attis). Many of these stories and myths follow the cycles of earth, crop, and love.

I dont know about religion or even a lot of spiritual paradigms/ beliefs/ ideas. I’m not saying these things aren’t true, I just don’t know. What I do know is that we humans have overlaid our understanding of ourselves and each other onto and from nature time and time again. And rightfully so- we are that. As a quiet (and not so quiet) observer of history and time, we can see how we repeat ourselves and where we detour from our natures. What I do know is that the sun rises. And not just once a year alongside chocolates and bunnies, but every single cotton-pickin day. I see how the buds emerge and the smells come wafting to introduce a new moment in time and birth what has never been and it is an f’n miracle. Yall there is literally a ball of fire in the sky that feeds everything that has allowed us to be. Photosynthesis giving way to the production of glucose and the release of oxygen-> that glucose then fueling the high energy demands of mitotic division— >> and this mitosis creating new, genetically identical cells for growth, allowing them to produce more leaves and chlorophyll for photosynthesis, [cue in-breath], and round and round we go. Littttterrrrallllly. It’s a frickin miracle.

The constructs of religion and spirituality have been amazing ways to track evolution and connect to our people, legacy and time, but the thing I crave doesn’t need fancy rituals it is here and it is now.

My religion? My belief? My understanding of love? First and foremost - I know nothing.

This came up in our restorative class last week. There are poses that sit you right up against the mystery. That remind you that you know not. Every shape has its own psychology. Its own whisper of wild intelligence. And ironically this relating with what we know not, this befriending of that which can never even come close to being groked even in the slightest stretch of the grasping mind, that relationship, gives way to a certain kind of k n o w i n g. Otherwise known as nowing. And let me tell you it is the best gig in town.

But I digress- my religion?.. Well here’s what I believe in with every ounce of my being and what brings me to my knees every day in a myriad of ways. Just as we observe the resurrection (and the descent) of a ball of fire in our midst every single day, we can also observe miracles and echoes of nature with this body and these bones.

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I believe in the covalently bonded oxygen that surrounds me as a gift that finds me every second of every day, I believe in the curl of a coccyx, the way the heart is held under the gentle hook of the aorta like a delicate lily of the valley bloom, I believe in the quiet bureaucracy of alveoli, the spiral vow of the cochlea- a shell that remembers every voice it has ever carried, I believe in the clavicle- that slender wishbone strung like a bridge between burdens, the ancient paintings on the wall of the vaginal vault, telling tales far before our time, I believe in the liver, that dark, patient alchemist turning ruin into reprieve.

I believe I believe in the thud of this 4 chambered usherer or life, that beats and loves and breaks and does it all again. And again.

So yes, I am a believer.

All of this can be found when we turn our churning bodies from outward consumption to in- ‘from mind-ing to m i n i n g.’

I heard myself mutter these words in a coaching session last week. The women who come my way juggle loads. They are brilliant- but that brilliance needs the gravity of coming home to deez bones. We don’t negate these pathways or brainiac ways; we use themas a doorway into body and soul.

Through the prefrontal cortex, past the speed of machines, and into the slow hum of flesh- where what is buried isn’t lost, just waiting. Where the ore of us lives- dense, raw, and worth every slow extraction.

The west has dissociated from the time it began. From time immemorial… and time imperial. It is the quality of our origin story and to not fully understand that is to bypass the roots of your system. The beautiful thing about the study of bone is that they dont lie. More on that later. But will say- descending back into and onto ourselves makes room for what will inevitably rise but without missing the most important part- ourselves. As a perambulating technology that is vibrantly intertwined with planet and people. Not against them. The argument could be made that religions began when war did- away from pagan and nature and pitted against one another.

Humans have ritualized sunrise, seasons, fertility, death- since prehistoric times. These are the pagan, animistic, or shamanic roots of religion. They’re local, experiential, and often collaborative, not hierarchical.

But when communities began to grow, compete, and go to war, religion started to take on social, political, and martial dimensions.

And yet, beneath all this, the body remembers what has always been true- breath, blood, bones, the pulse of earth beneath feet. The machinery of war and doctrine could never quite erase marrow’s knowledge, the slow smelting of human heart and hungry hands.

So maybe the story is not one of corruption, but of translation- from intimate communion with nature, to survival, to codified cosmos. And in that, still, lies the possibility of return- to flesh, to earth, to soft-spun resurrection.

I dont know if there’s a stronger anticdote to war mind. I believe in how this practice leads to repair- intergenerationally, within ourselves, and tumbling forward into all that surrounds.

So if you want to observe these rituals, this kind of miracle, mining, and memory, please come.

Join me as we fall into and onto ourselves. Embodied slice of sun that you are. Tomorrow we rise. Again.

With all the details of a breath sliding across bone. It is all here for you to witness, to behold, and to know.

3 Options for you:

1. I dont know a more concrete way of doing this than studying our anatomy to feel our anatomy and know a little more of what we are. Join us Mondays - in person or online.
See flyer below.

2. And if you want some next level embodiment and attunement to deep self, earth and one another, join us for this years EarthBound Broads Part 1. 6 years in running, tweaked and expanded as we go, it is a poetic accompaniment to the season of spring and your own soft-spun resurrection. Not to mention a heap of heartwarming fun.
We start April 19.

PARAMETERS:
~Meets on Sunday mornings at 9am MT for content and practices
~Wednesday evenings at 6pm MT for integration, circle support, and share
~All yoga included
~One-on-one coaching/design session scheduled to your convenience
See botton below flyer and email for further questions.

3. And always zoom Wednesdays and Thursdays with your critters and your pj’s- we take it all.
Email for zoom link.

Happy Ēostre~

I thiink it is time my friends:

We are risen.