My Story with Qoya

“There is a wild woman under our skin who wants nothing more than to dance until her feet are sore, sing her beautiful grief into the rafters, and offer the bottomless cup of her creativity as a way of life. And if you are able to sing from the very wound that you’ve worked so hard to hide, not only will it give meaning to your own story, but it becomes a corroborative voice for others with a similar wounding.”

– Toko-Pa Turner, from Belonging: Remembering Ourselves Home

I found Qoya after the birth of my second son. I had heard about it before, told to me by a friend who thought it would be “right up my street'“. Soon after my knowledge of this movement practice i had a gut feeling it would be a key component to my recently accepted ‘post natal depression’. I sought out the nearest class to me and moved through the greatest joy and the greatest grief in those moments while dancing. The joy was present, the grief was fresh, old + ancient. I still marvel at how i can witness two opposing feelings at the same time. This clarity often comes to me after i move with intention. After a year of practicing Qoya i knew i wanted to take the teacher training to feel out how to hold space for others.

Qoya gives me a space to be with women who i connect with on a soul level. I have developed some of the most rich, honest and lively relationships through this practice.

Qoya enables me to explore what it feels like to live in a body, to recognise my humanity and to trust my sensitivities.

Lastly, and most magnificently Qoya has shown me how to create a deeper connection with the divine that grows and grows.

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‘ALCHEMY’

“Push magic. Cause magic. If i am not magic in all of this human form, then what is magic? Move as magic, feel you are magic, touch each pulsation of this magical world. Your fingers can’t reach the infinity of magic but your bones know magic, your breasts pour magic, you tongue roams for magic. You see, where does the magic hide? In your sorrow, in your wooly womb, in your words from your flute throat, in your sucked out transformations. If sparkles are magic they’re at the end of your fingertips. Transform mama into your birth right. Take up space for the rebel nature to run amok and silence the voices that say you are not enough. Meet magic. Hello magic. Have a seat on the earthy floor. Cup of tea?”

- Written in a co-facilitated Embodied Writing + Qoya workshop

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