A Tribute to Friendship
This week, my family and I celebrated the life of my beloved Grammy. I’d love to share some reflections with you about her and about friendship.
My Grammy and I had a lot of traditions together and we both really loved games. Growing up, I’d take long walks with her around her neighborhood. We started out choosing a rock we found on the pavement, and we’d take turns kicking it as far as we could. The ultimate goal was to kick the same rock back-and-forth for the duration of our miles-long walk until we returned back home. Sometimes one of us would kick the rock so hard it would travel far, skipping and bouncing along the pavement, and then it would get lost in a slew of gravel on the side of the road. We’d exclaim, “Oh no!” and try to pick it out from the bunch. Rules were though, that you couldn’t touch the rock with your hands – you were only allowed to kick it with your foot.
If we succeeded in keeping the same rock for our long journey, we’d celebrate. If we didn’t, and we lost the rock along the way, we just chose another one and kept going.
I’ve been thinking about that game lately…how it’s a lot like friendship. My Grammy was a very special friend to me. I called her my best friend from the time I was in middle school when peer relationships can be tough. I’m fortunate I got through those years without losing too much of myself. Her presence at that time was like a steady anchor, reminding me of who I was and that I was loved. I could count on her for a laugh, a hug, and a warm bowl of chicken noodle soup. I could count on her to kick the rock and help me recognize it when it got lost. I learned from her to keep going even if you do lose your rock.
Losing you, Grammy, feels a bit like losing my rock. I’m so grateful I was able to share the journey with you for so many years. We helped each other kick the rock down the road of life.
I’m grateful for friendships that help us share the rock, the road, the journey. I’m thankful for friends that remind us of who we are, that our goals are worthwhile, and encourage us to keep going.
In honor of my Grammy, would you thank a friend today? Share a walk together and let them know they are cherished.
My Grammy was also a dancer! Not professionally, but she was toe-tapping to old time country and bluegrass music until the day she died. She taught me how to flatfoot, which is the way of dancing for Appalachian mountain folk. My grammy grew up in Max Creek, VA where they’d lay out a piece of wood on the grass on a Friday night and dance while her daddy played the banjo. She taught me how to slap my feet across the floor and not care too much how it looked as long as I was having a good time. I’ve enjoyed lots of different styles of dancing through the years - clogging, ballet, pointe, jazz, tap, and hip hop. Grammy was one of my first dancing teachers and she had it right from the beginning: how you look is less important than how much fun you’re having.
Fast forward 30+ years and now I teach this dance and movement practice called Qoya – in Qoya, it doesn’t matter how it looks, only how it feels. Qoya is a form of creative expression through movement. It also helps us tap into our intuition, our wise inner knowing, through the body.
I’m teaching a virtual class next Saturday Feb 26th where we will embody the sensation of being easy on ourselves - because honestly, these are extraordinary times that call upon a type of endurance that feels beyond human. Perhaps learning to be more easy on ourselves is part of the process in these intensely stressful days.
I hope you’ll join us from your part of the world by registering here.