For as long as I can remember, I've found my "flow state" in drawing. Whether it was doodling in the margins of my notebooks as a kid, working with clay, or painting canvases as an adult, art has always been my go-to sanctuary. It's that magical space where time and the outside world seem to fade away, leaving just me and the rhythm of my creativity.
Many understand the flow state as a shift from our usual left-brain dominance (think logic, timekeeping, and analytical thinking) to a more right-brain-led experience (where creativity, art, and intuition live). As a left-hander, I've often joked that my right brain is naturally in charge, guiding me through life with a less structured, more fluid approach.
This past year, with all its challenges, has seen me leaning heavily into my art as a form of therapy. I've particularly embraced neurographic drawing, a technique I've unknowingly practiced my whole life, only to discover its therapeutic benefits recently. It's become a crucial outlet for me, a way to navigate through times when words fail and the world feels too heavy.
As a yoga teacher, sound therapist, and trauma release facilitator I've observed similar flow states in my classes. I recently invited my students to an impromptu ecstatic dance session during meditation class. With the lights dimmed and the music turned up, we all tapped into that collective flow, moving intuitively and freely. It was a powerful reminder of how movement and mindfulness can intertwine, offering us a gateway to inner peace and connection.
Teaching yoga, for me, is another profound way to access this flow state. Regardless of my mindset entering a class, the moment I step into the studio and connect with my students, everything aligns. I believe this shift happens because, at its core, teaching is an act of service. When I focus on serving my students, and guiding them through their practice, I find myself seamlessly moving with the energy of the room, fully immersed in the moment.
This philosophy extends to my sound healing sessions as well. With each session, I ground myself, connect with my instruments, and let their vibrations speak to the room. This approach, taught to me by my gong teacher, transforms the experience into a shared journey of healing and exploration.
On a personal note, navigating a disability in recent years has reshaped my yoga practice and teaching. Losing range of motion, the top of my femur, and two major muscles in one leg presented a unique challenge, but it also deepened my understanding of yoga's adaptability and the importance of a mindful approach. Teaching yoga has become a gift, allowing me to connect with my students and my practice in new, meaningful ways.
The flow state isn't limited to art or yoga; I find it in simple moments, too, like walking my dog or spending time in nature. These experiences ground me, offering clarity and resilience to face life's ups and downs. They remind me that flow isn't about changing our circumstances but about finding our center amidst the chaos.
Whether through a paintbrush, a yoga pose, or a moment of quiet in nature, finding your flow can be a powerful tool for wellness and self-discovery. It's a reminder that, even in the busiest days, there's a space of peace and creativity within us, waiting to be explored.