It’s time to go.
This has come to an end.
When I took my White Belt Nia intensive, Denise Medved introduced me to the Mayan calendar. She also gave us, according to our birth dates, our connection to the universe. Mine was the White Planetary World Bridger. To this day it gives me chills. When I went home I did some research and discovered that one of the traits is Death.
There is Death in all things. There must be. Everything and everyone has a shelf life. It would be a horrific mess if this were not the case. Already, we, as a species, want to hang on far longer than is healthy.
I am in the middle of a series of deaths. As are we all.
The direct and immediate upheavals being caused by these deaths in my life have been impossible for me to ignore or even keep in the background.
One that I had been reluctant to address and therefore let go of was teaching Nia.
A year or two ago I spoke words that I knew in my being to be true. Now, I’m being given the opportunity to live those words.
Teaching Nia classes is the beginner’s way into Nia.
It is the beginner’s way for the teacher, as there is hardly a more formidable and satisfying learning experience than guiding others, and classes are a delicious way to introduce potential students to the magic of Nia.
White Belt is not the beginning. Black Belt is. White Belt set up the foundation for me to be able to see, hear, speak, act and choose; to become aware of how I am moving through life. Each subsequent belt gave me more preparation to actually begin this journey.
When asked by a Tae Kwon Do Black belt if I was a master, my response was that I intended to master being a beginner. She smiled and nodded knowingly.
Nia never slaps me in the face. Nia people might, but Nia does not. Here was a mini death that liberated me very early on and once again very recently. Nia is Nia. Nia is not any one person. I do not need to attach to any person to connect to Nia.
I will not support another’s Nia that does not feed us all. And I certainly will not support another’s Nia that divides us.
This divisiveness will kill us in the end.
Slowly. Painfully. Regretfully. But surely.
We are at a crossroads.
We are always at a crossroads.
The red pill? The blue pill?