Lyrics

Before I tell the body
where to go,
I listen
for what is already moving.

Before the shape,
there is breath.

Before the teaching,
there is someone
learning to trust.

Inhale—
find the space.

Exhale—
feel the ground.

A quiet invitation
before the body turns around.

First the breath,
and then the body,
then the path the movement takes.

Let the name arrive like recognition,
not a rule the body breaks.

I used to search for perfect language,
every answer, every line.

Now I know the clearest guidance
leaves some room
for what is mine.

Say enough
to light the way.

Leave enough
for them to stay.

A little less instruction.
A little more attention.

Breath before movement.
Listen before you lead.

Let the words become a doorway,
not a place the body needs to be.

Breath before movement.
Presence before pace.

You can offer someone guidance
without taking up their space.

And the art is not in knowing
every shape that they should make.

It’s in learning when to guide them,
when to listen,
when to wait.

Instruction draws a pathway.
Demonstration lends a light.

Observation sees the difference
between what’s taught
and what feels right.

And a hand can offer kindness,
but it never gets to claim

that a body needs correcting
just because it moves
another way.

Not every silence needs an answer.
Not every struggle needs a hand.

Sometimes care is standing near enough
to notice,
far enough to understand.

See the person,
not the pose.

Meet the moment
as it grows.

A little less perfection.
A little more connection.

Breath before movement.
Listen before you lead.

Let the words become a doorway,
not a place the body needs to be.

Breath before movement.
Presence before pace.

You can offer someone guidance
without taking up their space.

And the art is not in knowing
every shape that they should make.

It’s in learning when to guide them,
when to listen,
when to wait.

I thought that being ready
meant I’d know just what to say.

How to lead them through the silence,
how to never lose my way.

But somewhere in the teaching,
something quietly became clear:

I don’t have to hold their journey.
I only have to meet them here.

An adjustment is an offering,
never something I am owed.

A demonstration is a window,
not the only open road.

And the student is not a mirror
of the teacher I could be.

They are someone with a body,
with a story,
with a way of being free.

Breath.
Body.
Direction.
Name.

A thousand different bodies,
no two journeys quite the same.

Instruction into clarity.
Observation into care.

Demonstration into possibility.
And the wisdom
to leave space there.

Breath before movement.
Listen before you lead.

Let the words become a doorway
where another life can breathe.

Breath before movement.
Presence before pace.

Strength enough to offer guidance,
love enough to give it space.

And the art is not in making
every body move the same.

It’s in giving them the freedom
to discover
their own way.

Guide without possession.
See without judgment.

Offer without expectation.
And let the practice
be their own.

Before I teach the movement,
I listen for the person
inside it.

And sometimes
the most important thing
I teach

is how
to listen.