This month, I want to reflect on life and death. Many of you will know of the sudden and heart breaking passing of our godson, Joseph Rose. His loss has rippled through our hearts and through our community, reminding us how deeply every life touches countless others.
I affirm - all life is sacred. And death is both my teacher and a great mystery. When someone so young, vibrant, and full of love and vitality passes in a part of the world blessed with peace and plenty, I am reminded not to take anything for granted—not even tomorrow. I am called to live today. As one of the many wise taxi drivers we’ve met recently said: “When people die. especially young people, it’s a reminder, a powerful one, to take death seriously - to remember to bless every new sunrise, to bless each other, and to stay awake to the blessing of life.”
We pray for a deeper recognition of our shared humanity—for a world in which we can see the humanity even in those we perceive as different, or even as enemies. For a world where we can work shoulder to shoulder to create a society that honours diversity within a shared framework of respect: respect for life, for each other, and for the extraordinary miracle of being here at all.
This is what Movement Medicine seeks to contribute to, through the power of the dance. We are proud to be part of this, together with the many dedicated people who have trained with us. They come from diverse backgrounds and hold different perspectives—conformity is never the goal. What unites us is a commitment to creating safe spaces where people can dance beyond the mind’s habitual patterns, beyond our familiar identities, into the heart of what truly matters.
Ya’Acov and I recently returned from celebrating our 36th wedding anniversary. This year, our time in the sun was infused with both the sadness of personal loss and the gift of deeper love. We wept, remembered, and cherished each other and this life more than ever—grief, love, and appreciation weaving together as we deepened our awareness of the preciousness of life, of relationship, and of every moment. I’m grateful for all the years on the dance floor befriending the full spectrum of the heart, which gave us the capacity to welcome the melancholy of the hard to comprehend loss, knowing we could do that without losing the celebration of our marriage or the simple joy of our holiday.
This is why, in the Equinox Tribal Heart, we spoke about the life of the dance and the dance of life, and how they interweave. It’s also why we close each month on the Movement Medicine Study Hub with an enquiry into how embodied practice (the life of the dance) can illuminate our daily lives (the dance of life).
I celebrate all of us who dare, even for a moment, to dance in the fertile space between polarities, who resist the pull to belong to one camp or another, and instead reach across divides to dream a dream that may seem improbable but is possible. The alternative is the agonising endless repetition of blame, attack, and counterattack. And this work of peace is not easy.
I am profoundly grateful for Movement Medicine. Whether with us or with the incredible teachers we’ve trained, it offers spaces where we can dance, grieve, rage, mourn, celebrate, and love and pray—together. In the dance, we attune body, heart, and mind, and in doing so, we can become quiet enough to hear the whisper of the guidance of our own soul. Indeed, the word celebration originates in the Latin celebrare, which encompasses both grief and joy, and means “to come together to honour what is important.”
Much love to you. One thing we know is that everyone of us has a role to play in the search for genuine, lasting peace—for all humans, for all life—here on our one and only home. And may we celebrate what truly matters, along the way.
See you on the dance floor,
