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Hi Lovely!

There’s something so powerful about the practices we loved as kids—the things we did naturally, without needing a reason. Pretending. Dancing. Singing. Painting. Making art just for the joy of it. These were the things that brought us to life, that felt like home in our bodies. And somewhere along the way—whether through adulthood, responsibility, or the day-to-day grind—we forget. We lose touch.

I know I did.

Even after 20 years of dance training, there came a time in my life when I stopped dancing. Not because I didn’t love it anymore, but because life just got so full. I was a full-time college student working two or three part-time jobs just to get by. And when I finally graduated, I dove straight into yoga teacher training, energy healing, certifications, travel… all the things I had longed to do. But dance slowly drifted into the background.

And then—motherhood.

When I got pregnant, I shifted into prenatal yoga. I still felt deeply connected to my body, especially with my daughter growing inside me… but dance had slipped away completely. I entered a time of deep identity shift—what I now recognize as an identity crisis. I was becoming someone new, someone I didn’t fully understand yet. And it scared me.

After Lily was born, I let it all go—dance, yoga, movement, all the creative practices that had once made me feel alive. And in the process, I felt like I let go of myself.

If I wasn’t a dancer anymore… who was I?

I became a mother, and for a while, that was everything. But eventually, I started to feel restless, unsatisfied, even resentful. The beautiful, all-consuming role of being a mom started to feel like a trap. I love my daughter deeply, but I was losing my sense of self. I was having panic attacks, breakdowns, and what I now believe was undiagnosed postpartum depression.

Cody remembers those moments—the hyperventilating, the overwhelm, the not-knowing-what-to-do with all of it.

And somewhere, in the midst of that fog, a desire sparked: I need to do something else. I need to be someone else, too.

Shortly after Lily’s first birthday, I felt a powerful calling to start my own business. That seed became Embodied Ritual. And as that path began to unfold, dance slowly, subtly, began making its way back into my life.

Not in the structured, performative way it once had. But in a soul-deep way. A whisper, a nudge. A reminder.

Even now, dance doesn’t show up in the same way it used to. But it's still there, threading through my purpose, reminding me who I am. And what’s so beautiful is that it’s no longer just dance—I’m exploring drumming, singing medicine songs, reconnecting with creativity in all forms.

Maybe for you, it’s painting. Or writing. Acting, crafting, gardening, comedy, baking. Maybe it's something entirely new that’s been tugging at your spirit lately.

These creative practices—these things that light us up—matter. Even if they don’t seem “productive” or related to our work, parenting, or healing journeys. Especially then.

Because here’s what I’ve realized: We can get so deep into shadow work, into healing our traumas, into reprogramming our subconscious, that we forget to live. We lose sight of the bliss, the joy, the aliveness that reminds us why we’re doing all of this in the first place.

Yes, shadow work has brought me so much freedom. But I’ve also found myself wearing trauma-tinted glasses, constantly looking for what’s wrong. Fixing becomes a habit. And while there’s a time and place for that, I’ve learned that we also need joy.

We need the celebration. The dance. The play.

What if these practices are part of our healing?
What if joy is sacred?
What if creativity builds resilience?

I imagine it like a sphere: the shadowy underworld below, the roots and soil of our healing… but also the above-ground world—the grass, the trees, the sun. We need both. And when I spend too long below the surface, I know it’s time to rise. Time to move, create, and reconnect with life.

Dance pulled me out of the darkness many times in my life, especially during childhood and adolescence. And now, I’m learning how to weave it back in. Not as a career, not as a performance—but as a remembrance.

So even if five minutes of dancing in your living room doesn’t seem like it could help your relationship struggles, your overwhelm, your fatigue… I encourage you to try it.

Get curious. See what happens.

Let yourself play.
Let yourself be nourished by your passions.
Let that part of you come alive again.

It might just change everything.

And if something’s been calling you lately—some creative spark, an idea, an urge to try something new or return to something old—I’d love to know. Pop into my DMs on Instagram @cynthiagutierrez.coach. Tell me what lights you up. I’m so curious to hear.

Until next time… go dance, sing, paint, play.
Do something that fills your cup.

You deserve to feel alive.

—
Want to connect more deeply?
You can find me on Instagram at @cynthiagutierrez.coach , and all the ways to work together or stay in touch are linked in the show notes. Thank you so much for being here. It’s an honor to walk this path with you.

Now go out there and enjoy.

🌿 Want to listen to this episode instead? You can catch it here:

👉 The Spiritually Embodied Leader Podcast – Episode Link

With love,
Cynthia 🌿