Yesterday my heart expanded in new ways. I had the opportunity to teach @theclass to the female employees of @playagrandebeachclub with my sister from another mister, Ali, translating everything. My first bi-lingual teaching experience.
These women. Who do some much for so many. The housekeepers, janitors, waiters, cooks, staff cooks, administrators, and laundry women. I started the way we always start. Place your hands on your body and breathe.
Immediately I felt something different. It was the electricity of newness. No one has ever asked them to just simply be and breathe. And that was just the beginning.
By the end, we had transcended language.
Both from a felt sense during Class and during our talks after, I learned about their lives. Who had good partners, who didn’t, how many kids they have, who has survived cancer, and who has survived the deaths of multiple loved ones, where they live and how they live.
The staff cook, Jocalis, asked: “Cuando respiro así, siento que voy a llorar y no parar. Es normal?” (When I breathe like that, I feel like I will cry and not stop. Is this normal?) We talked about breath and emotion, the heart and what it holds, and why tears are important.
The throughline was clear. It isn’t customary to be asked how you feel with sincerity. And it certainly isn’t normal to have someone listen to the answer. But even more profound was their experience around belief.
Anya is one of my favorite ladies and she sat with me and Ali after. She explained that her daughter’s father said the nastiest things to her about her and she didn’t know she had a choice about whether or not to believe it. She kicked him out a few weeks ago and cried as she told us that she now knows she can believe what she wants to about herself.
I am so grateful to be returning in a month with #TheRetreatment. And even more grateful to have another opportunity to practice with the women of Playa Grande again. So so grateful to Ali for letting me do this, for the dissolution of constructs and roles, for the gift of shared humanity, for a common language that knows no words.