If you had met me years ago, you probably wouldn’t have guessed I’d be out there performing lion dances at community events, talking to people about Falun Dafa.

I live in a quiet rural town in Quebec and teach at a French school. My life looks quite ordinary—warm family, steady work. But for a long time, something didn’t feel right. When I was younger, I struggled with depression for no clear reason. I tried medication, which helped for a while, but the heaviness always came back. It was a difficult period, and I often wondered what was missing.

Everything began to change in 2007, at a family gathering. I remember turning to my aunt and saying, almost casually, “I know you meditate—I’d like to learn.” She was surprised. I had been unwell for years, and this wasn’t something I had shown interest in before.

She didn’t have time to teach me the exercises that weekend, but she handed me a book: Zhuan Falun. She simply said, “Read it from beginning to end.”

I did—and honestly, it felt like pieces of a puzzle falling into place.

Ideas that had always seemed abstract suddenly made sense: gain and loss, virtue and karma, why improving one’s character truly matters. It wasn’t just intellectual—it felt clear, grounded, and practical. From that point on, I began practicing Falun Dafa.

And something remarkable happened.

The depression that had followed me for years disappeared. I stopped taking medication. It wasn’t dramatic or sudden—it was as if, quietly, things had been set right.

But the changes didn’t stop there.

I used to have a very difficult relationship with my in-laws. I got married young—22—and they didn’t think much of me. To be fair, I probably confirmed some of their doubts. I was strong-willed, independent… maybe a bit stubborn. (Okay, probably more than a bit.)

They rejected me. I wasn’t even invited to Christmas gatherings with the rest of the family. That hurt. A lot. Over time, resentment built up, and I told myself I would never forgive them.

After I started practicing, something shifted. Instead of focusing on how they treated me, I began to look inward. I asked myself: What could I do better?

I started listening to them. Really listening. And I told them—if what they said made sense, I would try to adjust myself.

That alone changed everything.

Today, we have a good relationship. Not perfect—but genuine, and respectful. If you had told me years ago that this was possible, I probably would have laughed.

Or argued with you.

(Probably both.)

Another unexpected chapter began when I attended a Falun Dafa event and saw practitioners performing a lion dance. I helped out a little that day, and someone asked if I’d like to join.

I said yes—and somehow, that “yes” turned into twelve years.

Since then, I’ve performed lion dance in different communities, sharing the beauty of this tradition while introducing people to Falun Dafa. It’s joyful, energetic… and occasionally a workout I didn’t quite sign up for. But more importantly, it opens conversations.

Through these events, we also let people know about the persecution in China.

Many are surprised to learn that practitioners have faced suppression for simply wanting to live by principles like truthfulness, compassion, and forbearance. But what touches people most is not just the hardship—it’s the response.

Even in the face of injustice, practitioners—both in China and around the world—have remained peaceful. They’ve continued to raise awareness with calmness, dignity, and respect for others.

That, to me, is what truly stands out.

Looking back, I sometimes think about how simple it all began—with a book handed to me at a family gathering. I was just curious. I wasn’t searching for anything extraordinary.

But that book helped me understand life differently. It helped me change—quietly, but fundamentally.

And somehow, it led me here… inside a lion costume, of all places, trying not to trip over my own feet while sharing something meaningful with others.

Life has a sense of humor like that.

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