Julie Kouyate is a BodyMind coach and a licensed massage therapist. She lives in Ann Arbor with her husband, Mady Kouyate Griot, daughter Koro (19), and four sons, Djimo (17), Amadou (14), Mahamadou (12), and Soriba (9). You can learn more about her offerings, including bodymind coaching, somatic healing sessions, “playshops,” retreats, and dance classes with live drumming, at kouyatehealingarts.com, or call (734) 330-7903.
By Julie Kouyate • Photos by Hilary Nichols
Upon reflecting on “a single time” that I have moved outside of my zone of comfort, I am somewhat stumped. I realized while considering this topic that I virtually live outside of my comfort zone. My life is what I call “living on a prayer.” I work in the healing industry and have been a self-employed woman for well over 20 years of my 23 years of healing service. I don’t know where my next clients will come from, or how my week of work will look until I’m living that week. I don’t have a salary. I have had my babies at home despite the well-wishers making sure I knew how close to death I could be (both myself and my babies). I un-traditionally had five children as a self-employed woman with no paid maternity leave. All the while I say “thank you” to the universe and all that is for providing, even when the outcome falls short of my hopes. I say thank you for the flow of life itself for continuing to provide each day on some level.
I married a man from Africa who was not yet proficient in English, but the language of love proved to be real, as our marriage is still healthy and alive today, 20 years later. A mixed-race marriage in the 90’s was still very controversial in so many ways. This is just a beginning “short story” of the times I truly lived my life as I felt fit, which most times is uncomfortably perfect.
If I have to choose one outrageous and inspiring story to tell of a time I went outside of my comfort zone, then I’d like to tell you the story of how I became a healing somatic practitioner/sacred living coach and retreat leader!
I was, like everyone in my generation, placed in a suggested pool of interest at high school for which career I would thrive in based on a short quiz. The quiz suggested physical therapy as a good match. Okay, sounds fine, I didn’t know what that was really, but I went for it! I enrolled in Eastern Michigan university in 1996 to begin my four-year physical therapy program. One day while I was walking on campus in the last weeks of my first year of school, I had a deep feeling wash over me. “What was I doing? It’s like we are all cattle feeding from the same trough. I don’t want to know what everyone else wants to know. I am outta here.” Boy, my parents were devastated that I quit college and even more freaked out when I told them I was moving to Hawaii to “just figure it out.”
I had gotten a photocopied paper from my grateful dead, rainbow-gathering, traveling big sister, that showed two farms in the middle of the jungle. Her hand-written note gave the names of the farms that had a work trade program and I thought, “Okay, why not?” The pushback from my parents was expected but, everyone—even my young friends—had severe warnings for me. I was not to move outside of the matrix and they were “helping to keep me safe” by telling me horror stories about how something could go wrong. I just knew in my heart it was the move to make and realized there was something very wrong with nobody agreeing to an adventure because of fear!
I packed a hiking backpack, took my new hand drum, and off I went into the jungle with my close friend Shawn. We had no money and no plans except for the handwritten work trade addresses. It was the best decision I ever made.
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We landed on the big island in the middle of nowhere (it seemed). We had no car and there were no taxis to be found. There was hardly a person in the airport and it was getting dark. We didn’t know what to do. A few hours later, as we sat on our luggage at the airport, a huge group of hippie folk our age, packed to the gills in their small car, asked if we saw a man and women get off the plane. We said no but asked about how to get to the farms. They said, “Hey, our friends aren’t here, so hop in and you can stay at our place. We have a room for ya!”
What?!! To boot, the farms were close to their place. We found ourselves in a nice little jungle home that they were squatting at. The nearby trees were full of food. Mangos, bananas, guava, avo, liliquoi, star fruit, and jackfruit. Wow! We had a bed and food in the middle of the jungle. Just. Like. That.
Turns out the farms didn’t have any openings, and we couldn’t stay at that house so, we lived on the beaches for over six months. There were makeshift shelters for storms that others had built over time, and we utilized these at so many secret beaches away from the tourists. Jackfruit is a great source of protein, and you can throw it on an open fire and eat it warmed. We had plentiful cocos that were young with lots of water in them, and of course we hitchhiked to the local co-op where we could fill up water jugs.
One day as I was coming back in from swimming in circles with 15 other folks to call the dolphins to us (yes, we joined hands and swam in circles, which is known to attract the dolphins) I had a woman approach me. She said she needed to practice her massage techniques and her friend never showed, could she practice on me? Uh… yes, please. It was pure bliss, and I asked where she was studying. She told me she studied at the massage school in Hilo, clear across the other side of the island. I asked if I could go with her, and of course she said yes. We hitched on motorcycles the next day to the school.
I literally walked into what felt like home. The music, smells, and energy was it! I came home to Michigan and within three weeks I was enrolled into Irene’s Myomassology Institute in Southfield and became a massage therapist about a year later.
I wouldn’t change this experience for the world. I am forever grateful for my urge to see something different and the courage to be open to the unknown. Each of my experiences in life that took me into the unknown have been chances for me to rely on my creator and my trust to move more frutifully into the true expression of my life’s potential. To be uncomfortable is a gift to move into what was once thought to be impossible, and to provide evidence for the trust of the ever-giving universe that continues to move us into our future. From there, my continued effort to move out of my comfort zone has taken my career into so many new paths of healing. If I was concerned about staying comfortable, I would not be able to share these offerings with my community. The unknown is a playground where we get to imagine what we desire, feel the true possibility of doing anything that we have the courage to open up to, and most importantly to play.
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In the heart of Marrakesh, seated at a long table laden with tangerines and wafting aromatic delights, my discomfort was palpable. Surrounded by a group of 12 artist participants, all connected by history and relationships, I, the lone traveler, introduced myself. “Hi, I’m Susan from Ann Arbor and am here alone.” To which the entire group immediately replied, “No, you’re not?!”