I knew the only way I'd be happy was to step further outside my comfort to bring my desires to fruition. I spent the past five months in Brisbane training my ass off at an all women's Circus school and advancing in my aerial practice which I was ready to make use of. For so long I had been putting my energy into everyone but myself. My self was calling, practically screaming to feel the freedom it once felt. And so with dedication I was ready to recommit to myself. Beyond the luster of how most perceive my 'travels,' the struggle has remained obscure.
I've lived in a hostel for the past month, watching the numbers from my bank account deplete while in the process of pushing myself relentlessly to honor my passion. While my 20 - something- year old hostel mates urged me to join them in the many events going on in the city, I retreated to the library most evenings where the wifi was strong and the ambiance quiet. I've spent sleepless hours writing emails, visiting studios, getting lost in unknown neighborhoods, auditioning, and small talking strangers. I found a warehouse space 45 minutes outside the city to train aerial silk, and by my third day in Melbourne I was taking the train there 5 days a week to keep my body in shape if an opportunity to perform was to arise.
But after one month, I was left with little money, still no job, and the inconsistency and discomfort of hostel life began to weigh on me. It was the same story over again, yoga studios and everyone I spoke with didn't want to hire me because of my temporary visa. I was also competing with quite a saturated market.
I became stressed about my finances, questioning where all my efforts were leading me, if anywhere. I thought of throwing in the towel of my two year journey , contemplating going back to my my home city where an established life would grant me opportunity easily. But easy never appeases me. Reluctantly, I was also on the verge of applying for any job just to earn some money, although I knew I would be denying myself by doing this. And then my body retaliated from all the exhaustion. I came down with a fever, body aches, and felt as though I was burning from the inside out. I know my body well, and anytime this happens I feel as though life is sending me a message, and then some sort of change typically takes place. In this moment, my body was pleading for me to give it a rest.
In the midst of a 102 fever and feeling pushed to my edge, the tragedy in France struck. I felt an accumulated ache for the images of innocent refugee children and families being burdened for their existence, for the savage madness begetting death not only in France, but across the globe chaos has been vitiating all over the world.
And then my heart cracked. Like a roaring wave the realization of my purpose flowed out. I felt an immense fervor to push on for those who cannot. The suffering of others has been my motivation to continue to push forth in my teaching, and my personal practice. I found society to be perpetuating the languid ideology that "our world is fucked," or ''there's no hope for humanity." These futile beliefs will not serve us as individuals, or the greater good. Apathy will kill you.
Through helping others, my own suffering is alleviated, and the way I help is through my art, or my (heART) , as I like to say. It's an irreplaceable feeling of bliss in my world. This bliss comes in the delivery of a simple "thank you, I feel great " from a student who appreciated my yoga class. This bliss is experienced in the surrendered weight of a students head in my hands as I make sure to administer a 20 second head massage to every single one of my students in sivasana. A couple weeks ago when I was in the warehouse practicing, a timid aboriginal woman who had been cleaning the space approached me, expressing how moved she was to watch me practice. And so I made her take off her shoes and urged her to let me teach her a few things. The laughter and smile of triumph that accompanied her self doubt when she mastered three climbs on the silk, let me tell you...the joy I felt in that moment illuminated the brightest rainbow over a very cold and grey Melbourne day. This bliss, is what keeps me going.
If we all start small and share any little ounce of light we have in even the tiniest of cracks, we will be contributing to a better existence. Through loving ourselves, as painful as it is to face the demons that come along with it, and withdrawing the knives we have pierced our regrets with. The wake of human destruction can be an opportune time for reconstruction of our approach to it all, or simply the 24 hours set out before you. It's a time of empathy and educating ourselves on one another, because the truth is that we are inseparable. I find myself reading articles fervidly, wanting to have a greater understanding of the root of all this hatred, and educating myself on my own country's history at war that I admittedly have turned a blind eye to in the past. I'm making effort to make peace with various aspects of my life, and to show unconditional love even if it may feel unwarranted or unreciprocated.
I know I'm starting to sound a bit Paulo Coelho-ish now, but sincerely , it was almost in the exact moment that I decided to persevere for my purpose that the sky opened up. The catharsis I sought after...
I write this as I sit on my yoga mat, waiting to teach my first class in one of the best yoga studios in the city of Melbourne. I'm teaching weekly workshops and yoga classes at other locations in the city, have various projects in the works, and will be performing in a show on December 5th for a charity event alongside some beautiful and incredibly talented new friends.
When life kicked, I chose to kick back harder. When you commit to your innate self, there is no such thing as rejection. It seizes to exist. So... persevere persevere persevere my friends, for the rest of your life. And never stop loving. Without the darkness, how else are we supposed to appreciate the sunrise? ;)
“The best antidote I know for worry is work. The best cure for weariness is the challenge of helping someone who is even more tired. One of the great ironies of life is this: He or she who serves almost always benefits more than he or she who is served.” Gordon B. Hinckley
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