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Five Stages ๐Ÿ’›

This could get real sad like, but let's keep the actual subject matter light for this time around, friends.


It's inspired by something that really, just mattered mostly to me.


It was a mural on the corner of Queen Street and Great Western Highway in St Marys.


I knew a real estate was moving in, but for some reason naively assumed that the actual brick wall corner would still be "ours" (I say ours as I organized to get it painted there to brighten up the street, but it was also sort of our way to be like, hey "we are here, and look how fun and colorful and awesome we are and yes you should totally want to hang out with us!")


I was at said intersection and noticed painters prepping. I instantly felt my morning brown (coffee and milo, yes, I am a child, and yes, you are welcome) want to come back up.


The first three stages of what I now realize was grief happened within 20 minutes.


"They aren't prepping to paint over the mural; no one would ever do that"


"They have no right to paint over that mural; that wall doesn't belong to them. It belongs to everyone. They need to ask us all first"


"Maybe if I go over there now and try and convince them otherwise, they won't paint over it"


And then the 4th stage.


"Ok, they are for sure painting over, and they have every right to, and it's out of my control, and I'm trying not to cry because crying over a mural is silly"


And now, two weeks later, the 5th stage:


"That was such a beautiful mural and I regret nothing. How good is it to continue to have the opportunity to share in this way with Western Sydney?"


Dramatic for a mural right?


Grieving over some paint on a public brick wall.


It is what it is, however, and it helped me realize I was still processing the closure of our sister business, which we let go of last year.


It feels, sort of clearing. To have accepted fully and now move on.


This grief is all around us and will continue to be.


From moving house to your 5-year-old starting kindergarten, the loss of jobs, the loss of loved ones, and the shock of receiving not-so-wonderful news.


We are not immune to these things, and I don't think we ever will be, even though we might tell ourselves differently.


Sure, we can pretend it's not happening and distract ourselves in the form of the 1000 options out there, get properly pissed off, and go keyboard warrior (or full real-life warrior) to whoever will listen, or we make listen.


Or we can take a moment.


Notice what's coming up.


How it feels in the body (I know it sounds totally lame but it's a thing).


And feel all the feels.

Because you too are human, and you too are just doing your best in a world that is constantly trying to tell you otherwise.


Can this now be another Segway as to why yoga is so special?


I was dwelling this morning as I was thinking about this newsletter about how I keep coming back to these big subjects.


Big shout out to the teachings of yoga to help us feel all the feels. Without judgment; to just notice. Just be with them.


Oh, and I guess for helping me with my back and touching my toes?!


But mostly because it helps in navigating this thang called life ๐Ÿงก

That's all from me today. It is a huge subject, one I felt intimidated to talk about, but one I felt needed a place too.


That price we pay for love ๐Ÿงก๐Ÿงก๐Ÿงก๐Ÿงก


Till next week,

Annika xx


P.S. We are still looking for a couple of extra studio helpers if you are free and keen to help the studio out in return for a membership, just reply to this email and let us know.


P.P.S. Yoga Teacher Training is officially a thing and starting May 5th. To learn more click here.



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