I’ve thrown up that fluorescent purple “liquor” (which, honestly, what the hell is that stuff?) in the club. And I’ve also had the most spiritual, profound, real conversations about betrayal, loss, heartache, and what love really is in the bathroom there, too.
I often say the wrong thing to the wrong person at the wrong time. And that wrong thing has usually brought me to the deepest, most mind-altering truths, like not telling people every intuition I have about them at a party when everyone’s just trying to have fun.
I’ve gone to spiritual circles with people who I wished wore more deodorant, and who hugged me for much longer than was necessary. And those gatherings always gave some nugget of wisdom, connection, and insight (even if it was to buy more deodorant).
I also accidentally got a “tantric” butt massage while a Brett Michael’s impersonator next door sang Every Rose Has its Thorn, and a disco ball spun above me. And, that same woman initiated me on my path in such a big way by teaching me the foundations of energy and that the body is, in fact, sacred.
I once had to tuck away a rogue hair extension in my purse at a nice brunch in a hipster Brooklyn cafe that also sold lingerie (because, Brooklyn.) To make up for my messiness, I bought a bra that was way too small, only to have my left tit pop out at a rooftop nightclub later that evening. There is no shiny up-side to this one, it just is what it is at this point - I’m the gal that always has one tit out. Metaphorically and literally.
And did I mention that my emotions are HUGE? I feel them so strongly it knocks me on my ass sometimes. I’ve leaked them on to other people unconsciously, but mostly the inner turmoil and chaos has made me question absolutely everything about myself, the world, and others. But the amount of fear, pain, sadness, and rage I have inside me, have also cracked me open to feel the same amount of bliss, aliveness, and ecstasy that has made life worth living.I have made a ritual out of eating spaghetti in a bathtub listening to Stevie Nicks sing about heartbreak while crying my eyes out, feeling absolutely gutted and so profoundly alone, unworthy, and broken. And I also built a successful coaching business, connecting with people all over the world and holding them in their biggest heartbreaks, too.
I’ve been knocked on my ass by life too many times to count. Like, my-life-is-a-shambles-who-the-fuck-do-I-call-now kinda deal. Like, everything fell apart, especially me. And I’ve built so much magic, connection, and beauty there. Because let me tell you, when you’ve been down in the underworld enough, you become the ruler of that space.
Not only can I be there and know that it will pass again, no matter how painful, I can also hold others in that space really feel it. These are the moments that unite us in our deep humanity, and build intimacy beyond the mind’s imagining.
But at the same time, my messiness has always led me to doubt myself as a powerful, spiritual woman, worthy of claiming my own spiritual authority, or being in sacred space, or even having my own relationship with anyone, nevermind Divinity.
Truth be told, I’ve always felt awkward and out of place at spiritual gatherings. I tend to stumble over my words or get too excited and talk too loud. I even remember one time, I went to an ecstatic dance that I 100% thought was just a club. I turned up in platform boots and a leather dress, fashionably late, only to walk into a full cacao circle with someone playing a sound bowl and everyone chanting. I couldn’t sit cross-legged because my boots were too high and my dress was too tight, and I am still haunted by the echo of my heels walking to find a spot amidst the chants.
I have found that there’s also a sense of spiritual elitism that is rampant in these spaces, I’ve been shamed for wearing lipstick, not wanting to eye-gaze with a complete stranger, and for having a passionate love affair with Italian food (that’s not vegan, farm fresh, or gluten free.) I find that far too many people hide behind the spiritual guise - speaking and moving similarly, shaming themselves or others when they don’t follow the “protocol,” dressing the same way, and like, way too much pressure for ultimate peace and perfection. In that quest, a lot of these spaces lack soul — a celebration and reverence for uniqueness and authenticity and rocking where you’re at! Instead, all that is typically celebrated is sitting with your spine straight and speaking way too slow about spiritual concepts, with one hand over your heart, and that just doesn’t do it for me.
Personally? I found just as much spirituality in that club bathroom as I have at most breathwork fueled gatherings.
And I have a feeling you can relate.
