We are all starring in the story of our lives on a grand scheme. An opus that we are writing, living, producing and directing. Filled with moments by turns heartbreakingly beautiful, deeply painful, hilarious, traumatic, intense, touching and ordinary. Moments strung together like beads on a string that inspire, hurt, heal or bind us. Stories that we love so much we tell them over and over, and stories that we hide from. Failing to acknowledge them so as to make them nonexistent. As storytellers, we unwittingly share our story with all those who feel the impact of our words, actions, mannerisms. We carry our story in muscles soft or tense, breath spacious or constricted, shoulders heavy or free. In scars seen and unseen.
It’s the stories that we tell intentionally though, that interest me the most. The stories that can alter a downward trajectory, instill feelings of hope, begin a process of healing and most of all, affirm that you are not alone, simply by being spoken. An act of defiant love for the self in the telling. A gracious receiving in the receiving. In this way, in this moment, both seen, both heard, and perhaps, both healed.

“The telling and hearing of stories is a bonding ritual that breaks through illusions of separateness and activates a deep sense of our collective interdependence.” —Annette Simmons

In my practice, I hear a lot of stories. I want men and women to hear each other’s stories. I want to create a space where each individual voice is collectively raised together in song…and prayer. Where the voices of those who form part of my healing community are heard. Where under the canopy of pelvic health, in the name of wholeness and healing, we continue to add to the story.