I see you.

 

I see you, beautiful.

I see you scan the room — looking for a place where you can follow the instructor and see what is going on, but not get too close to the front.

I see you watching all of the people in the room who seem to know one another; the ones who have stories to tell in those minutes before class starts. How they laugh and are familiar with each other.

You are new or you are coming back. You’re bringing your brave motivation that this will be the day. This will be the week. This will be the month. This will be the year.

This will be the time that you will look back on years from now, and see how, even though you didn’t think so boldly at the time, this was the time you did more than just show up and move your body.

You showed up and saved your own life. Over and over again.

When you kept showing up, time after time, it was certainly guided by discipline and duty to yourself.

More than anything, though, I hope you will learn that you were (and can continue to be) guided by love.

 

I see you and your gorgeous body and soul — trying to catch your breath, keeping up with the movements, stopping to wipe the sweat off of your face and your hands.

I see you returning my smile. I see you the next week and then the next week, moving up a few feet closer to that mirror so you can see yourself move, grow and change.

I see you even when you don’t show up for a couple of weeks — pulled away by work, travel or a sick child.

I see and understand your boredom and impatience.

And I want to ask you this: How could anything that you’re creating with your life and your body be boring or put together hastily?

 

I see you and know because I was that girl — that woman in the back of a room — a little bit hiding…a little bit wanting to be seen.

I was motivated. I was brave enough to show up. I was also doubting and impatient. I got bored. I got busy.

And somewhere along the way, about six years ago, I decided that yes, I could be all of those things; they were all going to be a part of the process of connecting with myself and my body in a way that I’d never let myself before.

I saw myself — fully and completely. And I stayed with myself.

I stopped looking at my life and my body as a result to get to: a number, an achievement or a calculated end-game.

Instead, I transformed my thinking, day by day, into a curious and creative process to see what was possible — not just with my body, but with my life.

 

It became an art, and I came to understand that I was teaching myself about the art of living — not the art of doing more stuff, being too busy, or saying “someday, I will…”

That’s when I saw myself and came into being the woman I wanted to be.

Look ahead, beautiful. And look inside of yourself.

See you. Get to know you. Keep showing up for you.

You are a masterpiece, and every decision, movement, thought and action is the sculpting — the brush strokes, words and music that you contribute to your body of work.