Carnival.  A lived experience. A language. A memory passed through rhythm and movement. It is, in many ways, a kind of Mass, the gathering of people, sound, and spirit. And within that gathering, I found the Mass in me. 

From the first beat of the iron to the rolling thunder of the brass, Carnival music does something that words alone cannot, and yet I chose to put pen to paper. It calls my body to remember what my mind would prefer to forget. The music moves through generations before me, calypso telling the truth, Soca releasing my joy, steelpan carrying both my struggles and triumphs in every note. This is not noise; this is my testimony; this is part of my culture. 

In the same way that a Mass invites reflection, confession, praise, and release, Carnival music walks me through emotional rituals. Slow wine becomes a prayer. (Smile) The jump becomes my source of freedom. The chant becomes communion. In the middle of the road, I am not with strangers,  I am with a congregation bound by rhythm and shared history. 

The Mass in me is activated when the music starts, and something inside loosens. Stress fades. Grief softens. Joy rises. For a moment, I am fully present, body, breath, and spirit all aligned. Carnival allows us all to be unapologetically alive. It creates space for emotional release in a society that often tells me to be composed, restrained, and quiet. 

There is also healing being experienced. To dance next to someone I don’t know, to sing lyrics I didn’t write but feel deeply, is to experience belonging. Carnival reminds me that wellness is not only individual, but also communal. It is found in shared laughter, synchronized movement, and the freedom to feel without explanation. 

The Mass in me is not about excess; it is about expression. It is about reclaiming joy. It is about honoring culture not as costume, but as identity. Carnival teaches me that joy can be sacred, that movement can be medicine, and that music can carry us all home to ourselves. 

So, when the trucks roll and the music starts, I don’t just hear sound, I feel ceremony. I feel memory. I feel the Mass in me rising to meet the moment that I am enjoying. And in that space between every beat and my breath, I am reminded: this is not just Carnival. This is my culture. This is me healing. This is the “Mass in Me”. 

I hope you find the “Mass in You”, during this Carnival Season. Be Safe and Enjoy.