02/14/2026
Workshop 5/6 Theme: HOME. Below is one participants reflection of her experience. There is nothing more rewarding than witnessing another's transformation, I am so grateful.
Carmen Moar
"Returning to my somatic movement class tonight after a one-week hiatus.
If I’m honest, arriving home after a long week, slipping into my pajamas, receiving cuddles from Piper and Tilley, and zoning out to some mindless TV felt far more inviting than heading back out the door. Comfort was calling loudly.
But something deeper in me — the part that honours commitment, growth, and the quiet promises I make to myself — whispered, Go.
So I went.
As I entered the space, I could feel the shift almost immediately. My nervous system began to soften. The muted lighting, the faint hum of calming music in the background, the intentional quiet — it all felt like an exhale.
I made my way to my six-foot parcel of floor, unrolled my mat, and silently applauded myself for showing up.
Tonight we are exploring movement — and the question:
What does the way I move say about me?
I’m curious.
I’m listening.
I’m willing to discover.
We begin belly to the ground.
Hands press into the floor.
A gentle rise through the chest.
Then to the knees — mimicking the early rhythm of crawling.
Immediately I am brought back to the video we had just watched — the first year of life. The miracle of it. Our bodies awakening. Seeing. Reaching. Lifting our heads. Rolling. Crawling. Standing. Walking.
And doing it all on our own.
No one instructing.
No one directing.
No one saying, “Now do this.”
We were simply wired to explore.
We figured it out in our own timing.
So profound.
Having raised three children, I witnessed development — and yet tonight I realized I had never truly seen it this way. Never paused in awe at the orchestration of it all.
And here I am at sixty years old — stunned by the miracle of it.
Next, we simply walk.
Move in whatever way feels good.
Explore.
Shift.
Add obstacles.
At one point, I notice we are all walking in the same direction, in a line.
What does that mean?
Are we conditioned to follow?
To align?
To move together?
To feel safer that way?
I wonder.
Then we pair up — performer and observer.
Ah.
This is my sweet spot.
Connection.
We begin with a gentle, supportive hug. A simple gesture — yet it feels like an agreement: I see you. I am with you.
The performer moves through suggested emotional states — joy, anger, ease.
Our eyes stay fixed on one another as best we can. We both recognize how intense constant eye contact can be. How it shifts. How it softens or tightens depending on the emotion being embodied.
One thing I notice:
The natural propensity to smile.
Even while performing anger.
Even while holding intensity.
The body seems to want to return to warmth.
This evening has been a journey.
So simple.
Yet so complex.
It awakens something in me — observation, wonder, awe.
What miracles we are.
Nothing within us by accident.
Every system working in exquisite unison.
And yet I wonder…
What dysregulates us?
Is it life?
Is it trauma?
Is it neglect?
Is it disconnection from this original intelligence?
I am deeply enjoying this journey.
And I feel a tinge of sadness knowing there is only one class left.
I don’t want it to end.
I find myself pondering:
How do I continue this exploration?
How do I stay in conversation with my body this way?
How do I honour this awakening?
I want more."