🎨✨Shaking Loose Rigidity

Yesterday’s golden hour lit the gutted studio like a blood-orange portal. I’d spent the day wrestling emails and canvas—my first painting in years—so when I set down the brush, my shoulders felt locked into every deadline, anxiety, loss. Spine fusion surgery left them rigid, but they also held the imprint of every wound I refuse to ignore.

So I let the music take over. Each instrument spoke its own lineage: heartbeat, lament, defiance, anchoring. I moved with them, surrendering to the message beyond words.

So yes: while “Kundalini” as a term is rooted in South Asia, its core essence—awakening latent life force through breath, movement, and the coil of the spine—resonates deeply with African traditions of dance and ancestral remembrance.

In both worlds, the invitation is the same:
Listen to what your body can’t un-remember. Move with reverence. And trust the lineage that lives beneath your skin.

The wooden floorboards groaned underfoot as lineages merged. I let Einar Selvik’s ancient, guttural vocals guide each tremor and shake—spurring me on, trembling like a newly freed bird flying north to Lyfjaberg. Pride and dignity replaced the earlier emotions. In that moment, “the body keeps the score” wasn’t a cliché; it was a gospel written in sinew and spirit. The weight of the world—its relentless war on diversity, it’s LOUD erasure of joy—pressed against me. And still, I honored the music. I honored the deep, unspoken kinship that connects my trembling limbs to the ancient call. #throatchakras #yasssss

You know… heliciculture is an act of rebellion—of radical care.

Tending to snails isn’t indulgence; it’s an ancestral practice. Their slow, circular rhythm mirrors our own need for patience in a world that demands speed. Escargot composts the world in hushed diligence, then offers us nourishment. In return, we give them shelter, attention, and song. It’s a loop that refuses to be broken—like the pulse that thrummed through those evening vibrations.

These paintings, will become labels for Mama Kuku’s products. They won’t be mere decoration.

Because no one heals in isolation. Not the body, not the land, not our wounded lineages.

We move slowly here, deeply listening—to the land’s whispered urgencies, to our own bodies’ ancestral grief, to the call of art that reminds us we’re still alive enough to change. Watch here

Special thanks to Yoga Farm Ithaca, where I am a student, surrounded by an insightful and generous sangha🙏🏾.