The injunction to heal ourselves - especially amongst us white folks - is a slip of the tongue and the attention span. It conveniently positions us as victims, powerless, and dealing with our own wounds while deflecting our attention away from very real and institutionalized privileges. It’s past time that we within the yoga community stop this myopic quest to live authentically. It’s not important that we speak our truth. It’s time we start to listen.
All of this - the trash of the wider culture, the bite of my own truth, the longing I hear from others - gives me the go. It touches, I think, that tender longing spot in me, that urge toward truth and balance and yes-ness. I want to rend the fabric of the false. I want to reveal the sexualized and bulemic matrix, the absurd amalgamation of goddess-nature-ecstatic dance-feel your wildness-new ageism. I want to show how our attention is tangled in the absolutes, the all or nothings, the goal setting and expectations and how much this hurts. The falsity hurts.