The Grind, The Hustle, and My Misunderstanding of Embodiment

For most of my life, I thought Embodiment was about doing more.

More weight on the bar. More miles logged. More exhaustion at the end of the day, because if I wasn’t physically spent, had I even tried hard enough?

My 10-year journey as a competitive bodybuilder and CrossFit athlete shaped so much of my identity. It taught me discipline, resilience, and the sheer power of pushing past limits. But it also embedded this deep-seated belief that Embodiment = effort. That to truly be in my body, I had to grind my way through it.

And then, one day, I took my first Pilates class—a quiet, unassuming private session led by a pocket-sized woman from Indonesia named Davy. Over the course of an hour, Davy guided me through new movement patterns while gently correcting every single way my body resisted or compensated for learned imbalances.

And everything I thought I knew about Embodiment unraveled.

Relearning My Own Body’s Language

The class itself wasn’t remarkable in any grandiose way. There were no heavy barbells, no frantic sprints, no moment of grit-your-teeth-and-just-get-through-it.

Instead, there was breath. Stillness. Slow, intentional movement.

I left feeling more energized than I had in years.

Something inside of me cracked open: Why did I feel so much stronger by doing less? I cried on the drive home, having no idea *where* these strong emotions were coming from.

That moment was the start of my recalibration. Not just of what I was doing with my body, but of how I was listening to it.

And from there, everything began to shift. My daily practices, the way I moved through the world, and most importantly—how I showed up for myself and others.

Who Gets to Be Seen as “Embodied” Anyway?

The more I sat with this realization, the more I started noticing how we, as a culture, define Embodiment.

We idolize athletes—those who push physical limits, who show us what’s possible through extreme performance. And don’t get me wrong—I am just as awestruck as anyone when I watch:

✨ Olympic Gold Medalist Mondo Duplantis flying over 20 feet in the air like it’s nothing with the flick of a carbon fiber pole...smashing records like dominoes as he continues to test the limits of gravity.

✨ Or one of my personal heroes, Simone Biles, redefining physics. I remember tears coming to my eyes as I watched her in the closed-feed podium training at the Paris Olympics, finally sticking a vault no woman had ever competed before, remembering all of the other times she soared backwards overhead, legs piked...progressing from needing her coach on the mat at the world championships just one year prior, to finding her feet perfectly. In that moment, I thought of just how many hours in the gym it must have taken for her to perfect a skill no one else dared to do, and the courage it took for her to keep going after every fall. (For the record, I *still* cry every time I see her land a triple-double on floor! It's mind boggling to think about how I will probably never witness that kind of talent again in my lifetime).

These moments are breathtaking—not just because of the raw physicality and power these athletes embody, but because they are the purest examples of people fully living their truth, expressed through the physical vessel all of us share.

But the lesson I keep coming back to is this: We need to celebrate the quieter forms of Embodiment, too.

The people who aren’t standing on top of the Olympic podium, but are still fully, unapologetically in their bodies. The yoga instructor teaching trauma-sensitive movement in underserved communities. The elder dancing at a wedding, reliving a joy they never let go of. The person who decides that rest is a radical act of Embodiment, too.

How This Shift Changed My Relationship With Community

Once I let go of Embodiment as an output, I started to understand Embodiment as connection.

To my body.
To my energy.
To the spaces I create and the relationships I nurture.

Wayshowers teach us that Embodiment isn’t about effort—it’s about presence. It’s about fully inhabiting your experience, whether that means soaring through the air or simply choosing to move in a way that feels true to you.

➡️ My body doesn’t need to be “pushed” to be embodied—it just needs to be honored.

➡️Embodiment looks different for everyone, and all expressions are valid.

➡️Community is built when we create spaces where people feel safe enough to show up, just as they are.

That is the real work of Living the Lifeseed.

What About You?

‍I’d love for you to reflect on this with me:

💡What does Embodiment mean to you?
💡Where have you been pushing, when maybe you needed to listen instead?
💡How can you create space for others to feel safe in their own bodies, their own truth?

Let me know in the comments, or come join me inside this month’s Macrocosmic Mini: Starchetype Relationships & Community—where we’ll explore not just Embodiment, but how it shapes our relationships, our sense of belonging, and the way we build connection with others.

However you define it, Embodiment is always about more than just you—it’s about how you bring your energy into the world.

And that? That’s something worth honoring.