Dancing, Screaming, and Freedom

Yesterday I danced. Like around other peeps. And not at club. And not after tequila shots. Or even a glass of wine. I mean a cup of coffee happened. A dance class happened. It’s the first time I’ve taken a dance class since elementary school. (That’s kind of lie. There was the adult Intro to Ballet class that wrecked my hip and I dropped out of.)Now don’t get me wrong. I’ve been dancing foreva. There were lessons for a minute.

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Meditation, Anger, and Radiance

Mediation. Here’s the deal. You meditate how YOU want. Where you want. When you want. You can sit. You can walk. You can cook. You can chant. You can dance. What works for you, boo? Sho doesn’t have to be sitting on yo a$$, crossed legged (or lotus if you’re lucky), w yo eyes closed.

Meditation is not an assignment. It’s not an obligation. It’s liberating. Comforting. A path to radiance. Me?

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