Trauma will not save you.
Why you need a light heart, especially now.
Have you noticed the offering I’ve been singing out this summer?
Camp LightHeart is a summer camp for adults.
It is a grand anticapitalist experiment in teaching beauty, magic, and joy as a form of resistance.
It’s a pay-what-you-can offering with no barrier to access.
I’m trusting that giving my work generously can meet both our needs.
We can playfully collaborate in the solemn work of protecting our hearts—and our vulnerable communities.
Tomorrow begins How to Be Like Water, our first session.
Right now, two brave beings are signed up.
And I want more people to play with.
I recently received feedback that I haven’t clarified just how crucial this work is—that it reads as light, fluffy, maybe even frivolous.
But here’s the truth: pleasure is not fluff.
Joy is not a luxury.
Beauty is not an escape.
This work is serious because it uplifts.
This work matters because it allows us to remember who we are beneath the systems trying to grind us down.
You’ve seen the offerings out there.
So many are focused on trauma and grief.
And don’t get me wrong—that is an essential level of the work.
But.
When I first started my somatic sex coaching practice in 2012, I believed that pleasure would save us.
I made up all kinds of offerings about pleasure and how to feel good in our bodies.
But very few people came, so I pivoted to sexual trauma work, and suddenly, my practice was full.
People came to do the hard, painful stuff.
And while that’s important work, most clients stopped once the suffering was lessened.
We rarely touched exuberance.
We never made it to the kind of aliveness that sings in your cells.
When I dove deep into ancestor work, people lined up to heal transgenerational trauma.
But when it came time to receive the gifts of well, elevated ancestors, many weren’t ready or didn’t feel worthy.
My friend Barbara Carrellas wrote a book called Ecstasy is Necessary.
She teaches that cultivating the capacity to feel beyond good is neurologically essential—it strengthens our full capacity to live, love, and lead.
The leaders and visionaries I trust say the same thing: joy is the medicine for these times.
If we can’t laugh, we’ll cry—if we’re lucky.
If not, we numb out, dissociate, and lose ourselves.
Earnestness and commitment to grief work can only take us so far.
So I’m circling back.
To pleasure.
To joy.
To the beauty that nourishes revolution.
Camp LightHeart isn’t therapy, and it isn’t entertainment.
It’s a remembering space—a devotional, playful, sacred place to reconnect with your body, your joy, and your ability to feel good on purpose.
It’s especially for people who can’t imagine feeling lighthearted right now.
We’re not trained to turn toward what feels good.
We’re taught to brace, fix, hustle for healing.
We’ve been schooled in scarcity, not delight.
We’re fluent in crisis—but illiterate in joy.
Most of us don’t yet know how to receive offerings that aren’t transactional, or that don’t demand heavy lifting to feel valid.
So when something nourishing arrives without a price tag, we hesitate.
Capitalism has taught us to mistrust the generous, to overlook the beautiful, to stay focused on what’s wrong.
That’s negativity bias, baked into our bones.
So—I’m inviting YOU to register for Camp LightHeart this summer.
There are many sweet, potent offerings all summer long.
Five different experiments. Different magicks.
And this week?
It’s all about water.
If you have a relationship with water—or want to deepen one…
If you’re longing for softness, spaciousness, and sweetness…
If you want to root into beauty to stay strong in your resistance…
If you are a water mystic…
Then come.
Bring a beloved vessel filled with water from home.
Let’s pray with it.
Play with it.
Become like it.
I want this experiment to work.
Because no one is coming to save us.
It’s us who will save us.
The ability to cultivate lightheartedness amid war is one of our sharpest tools.
Come float.
Come drink.
Come play dolphins.
Come be water with me.
With big, bright love from my glowing, radiant heart,
Pavini
Ready to come to camp?
Make payment via Venmo:
@pavini-morayYou'll receive a welcome email with a supply list and instructions.
P.S.
I also received feedback from people wanting to come but unable to make the time, and I said I wouldn’t be recording sessions.
I realize now that puts up an unnecessary barrier to access.
I will be recording sessions and sending them out to participants.