evidence that something matters

Last week, I cried a bunch for a few different reasons.
Not quietly. Not behind closed doors either.

I cried when I finished The Dictionary of Lost Words by Pip Williams (our current book club read). If you haven’t read it yet, it’s the story of a young girl, Esme, who grows up watching the first Oxford English Dictionary being compiled. As words are gathered and defined (mostly by men), she begins to notice the ones that are missing. The words spoken by women. By mothers. By those on the streets. By those whose voices weren’t considered important enough to record.

It’s a book about language, yes. But really, it’s about whose experiences get legitimised. Whose emotions get kept. Whose stories are allowed to matter.

It was beautiful. And it undid me a bit. One of those books you think about long after you close it.

Then I cried again when my three-year-old daughter had her tonsils & adenoids removed. I held her while they administered the anaesthetic. There’s something about being the safe place for someone you love while they are terrified that splits you open real good.

I cried at lunch with two of our team members because running a business like this is both extraordinary and exhausting. It is meaningful and heavy. It asks a lot of you. But it gives a lot back, too. Sometimes the gratitude and the pressure sit in the exact same place in your chest.

And on Sunday, at our yoga teacher training graduation, of course, I cried again. As everyone shared what the last eight months had meant to them. As stories of grief, courage, doubt, healing and growth were passed around the circle. As people spoke about becoming more themselves.

So many of those shares began with, “Sorry, I’m going to cry.”

And I said it too. We all have.

But what exactly are we apologising for?

Strong emotion is not weakness. It’s evidence. Evidence that something matters. That your values are alive. That your heart is responsive. That you are paying attention.

The tears when I finished that book? That’s because stories and justice and language and our evolution matter to me.

The tears at the hospital? That’s because love matters, and I adore my babies, like all mummas.

The tears at graduation? That’s because community and holding each other up matters.

The tears over business? That’s because integrity, sustainability and doing this well matters too. (And please don’t feel sorry for me — if you know any small business owner, I bet my very first morning coffee that they cry on the regular too.)

We don’t have to shrink our emotions to make other people comfortable. We don’t have to apologise for being moved.

I hope this studio can be a place where you show up how you need to. Quiet. Loud. Tender. Fierce. Tired. Grateful. Uncertain. Certain.

No apology required.

It’s an honour to care deeply enough to feel. It’s an honour to have lives full enough that they move us.

If you’ve been feeling a lot lately, good. It means you’re alive to what matters.

See you in the studio.

Annika xx

P.S We have pushed back the dates for our next Level 1 Yoga Teacher Training to begin mid June instead of May, Tuesdays at Penrith and Thursday on Zoom for 6 months.

P.P.S Next Friday starts our Yin Yoga & Meditation Teacher Training too.

P.P.P.S Book club is March 8th, and it's free. No need to have finished the book. Save your spot on the schedule here.