Recipe for Reclaiming Power

 Photo by Wolfgang Jasper, 3/2/18

Photo by Wolfgang Jasper, 3/2/18

Something lost has been returned. The down is back up. The center seems to hold. Maybe it's the new wonder smoothie I invented from everything green and blendable in the fridge  because yesterday for the first time in months I didn’t feel the seductive pull of an afternoon nap, the kind you wake up from convinced it’s morning. 

Or maybe it was Black Panther, the fierce, luscious warrior women, the beautiful men, the dreamscapes and futurescapes, the sheer power and vitality radiating out from the screen that I grasped onto hard, soaking it all in.

Or it could’ve been the sweat lodge I went to last Saturday in the crisp, cold March air in the middle of wild woods of our city led by members of native members of Virginia tribes. I sweated out old years, ancient energy, lingering ghosts, and shadows that have wanted for so long to hang on. I sweated out toxins and villains and probably 20 pounds. The lodge as big as a large tent full of 20 other steaming, sweating bodies and giant grandfather rocks burning red hot and then doused again and again with ladles of water, the steam enveloping us in the pitch black chamber.

Or maybe it was the dance the next morning in the big studio with the mirrored walls and wooden floors and windows that dumped sunshine on us like rain. We danced for 90 minutes, no instruction or direction, just music and movement, more sweat, more release, more unraveling of those ancient coils bound so tight and so fast. 

Maybe it was the photo shoot in the warehouse without heat or plumbing, the flashing lights and black velvet, the dressing room fit for an actress or a queen, the pose and repose, the hundreds of shots until we found a few that represented the best sides of me. Smoke, mirrors, paint, and art yes, but also a hopeful reality – power, – fire – knowing – joy - presence. A portrait artist gives the gift of showing you to you.

I don't know if there's an exact recipe for reclaiming your power, for returning your fire, for restoring your core so that things feel possible again, but this week at least, I seemed to have hit on something good. 



 

Valley HaggardComment