I walked into the room feeling shy and awkward. It had taken everything I had just to get there — pushing myself out of my comfort zone. I had missed the first class, so I already felt behind before I’d even begun.
Then the music came on.
And I knew, finally, I was home.
After eight months of attending salsa classes weekly without recognizing a single song, I knew in an instant that my heart belonged to swing.
I didn’t sit down for two hours — and then only to drive home.
I felt alive. Connected. Thrilled. I was doing what I love, moving to music I love. The afterglow lasted three days.
I’m no swing superstar. I fumbled over my feet. I stepped on my partners’ toes. I turned the wrong way more than once. But the rhythm kept me moving, I couldn’t stop smiling, and something deep inside me kept saying yes.
My body recognized where I belonged before my mind had a chance to catch up.
The Wrong Question
For years I thought finding myself would be an intellectual exercise. I thought I would think my way into my next chapter.
Read enough books. Journal enough pages. Pull enough tarot cards in the right order. And eventually clarity would arrive.
Instead, my body figured it out first.
Before my brain had a chance to make a spreadsheet of pros and cons, my hips were already undulating to the rhythm of the music.
Maybe we don’t think our way home.
Maybe we feel our way there.
Recognition Energy
What happened on that dance floor wasn’t discovery. It was recognition.
Some forgotten part of myself suddenly woke up and said: I know this. I remember this. This feels like me.
Not an external recognition — an internal one.
I get the same feeling teaching water aerobics — leading a group of women to push themselves, become their best, express something true. In those moments I am not performing. I am simply being the person I am at my core.
This is what recognition energy feels like: not the excitement of something new, but the relief of something remembered.
Your Breadcrumbs
When do you lose track of time? When do you stop checking your phone? When does your body relax without being told to? What conversations leave you energized instead of drained? What music makes you move before you even realize you’re dancing?
Those are your breadcrumbs.
Follow them.
I have spent so much of my life asking, “What am I good at?”
Maybe that’s the wrong question.
Perhaps the better question is: “What makes me feel unmistakably alive?”
Because the things that make us come alive are almost always pointing us back toward ourselves.
My Mother and the Music
My mother has Alzheimer’s. She doesn’t remember my name. Or my birthday. Or her own birthday. She doesn’t recognize faces anymore.
But she remembers the music.
She knows every word to every church hymn she grew up singing. She knows the swing dance music of her youth. Her body sways before her mind even registers that the song has begun.
The music somehow bypasses memory and goes directly to identity.
I wonder if that’s what happened to me on the dance floor.
Not because I had forgotten how to dance.
Because I had forgotten a part of myself.
Maybe It’s Waiting to Be Recognized
Pay attention this week.
Notice what makes your shoulders drop. Notice what makes you laugh without trying. Notice what makes you forget the time. Notice what gives you energy instead of taking it away. Notice what makes you think, “I could do this for hours.”
Those moments aren’t accidents. They’re invitations.
Perhaps the life you’ve been looking for isn’t something you have to create from scratch.
Perhaps it’s simply the part of yourself that has been patiently waiting —
for the music to start.
The opposite of self-abandonment isn’t self-improvement.
It’s self-recognition.
Next week I’m beginning a new series: The Art of Coming Alive. Over the coming weeks we’ll explore how to follow the breadcrumbs back to yourself — in your body, your relationships, your work, and your daily life. If this essay landed for you, you won’t want to miss what’s coming.
If you’ve been reading along and finding value here, this is a beautiful moment to support my work, become a paid subscriber and join me for the full journey.
The Tarot Nook
Queen of Wands
This week’s card couldn’t have been more fitting.
The Queen of Wands isn’t the queen of confidence.
She’s the queen of aliveness.
She reminds us that there are moments when something inside us suddenly says, “Yes. This is me.” Not because we’ve perfected a skill. Not because someone applauds us. But because some forgotten part of ourselves wakes up.
That’s exactly what happened to me on the dance floor.
For two hours, I wasn’t trying to become someone else. I wasn’t performing. I wasn’t proving. I wasn’t earning.
I was simply expressing.
The Queen of Wands teaches that our deepest vitality comes from living in alignment with who we are—not who we think we should be.
She invites us to notice what lights us up.
What makes us lose track of time.
What fills us with energy instead of draining it.
Perhaps your life isn’t asking you to become someone new.
Perhaps it’s inviting you to become more fully yourself.
The question this Queen asks isn’t:
“Who am I?”
It’s this:
“Where does my fire burn brightest?”