The underground playground
EFK = The Efficiency of Fucking Knowing.
So if you’ve unlocked this page, one of two things probably happened:
You saw something.
Maybe it was a group of people in a park, spinning glowing tools that looked like light-up nunchucks.
Or…
Someone saw something in you—and handed you a card with a wink and said:
“Just check it out.”
Either way—
You’re here now.
Welcome to The Underground Playground.
It’s the part of the site that’s not really on the site.
A whisper. A breadcrumb. A code you didn’t know you were looking for.
This isn’t a trend.
It’s a frequency.
And yes—
you’re now part of it.
WHAT IS THE UNDERGROUND PLAYGROUND?
HOW IT BEGAN (AND WHY YOU SAW WHAT YOU SAW)
Hi, I’m Karen.
And if you saw a group of glowing humans spinning mysterious light-up tools in sacred synchronicity, that’s on me.
It all started with a spark.
An accident.
A question:
It’s not a class.
Not a course.
Not a performance.
It’s a living rhythm.
A constellation of real-life gatherings.
A rebellion of joy, sweat, laughter, movement, and meaning.
We meet in:
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Parks
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Beaches
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Rooftops
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Terraces
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Living rooms
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Nervous systems
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Conversations that actually mean something
We recalibrate together—with a glowing, energy-moving tool called Le Cirk.
✨ It looks like play.
🧠 It works like therapy.
💪🏻 And your arms will absolutely notice.
This is joy without performance.
Fitness without punishment.
Healing without shame.
We call the space where we gather The Playground.
And Le Cirk is its heartbeat.
It’s how we reconnect.
It’s how we come alive.
It’s how we remember.
“Why has movement started feeling so performative… and so not fun?”
After years spent in the fitness world, former clients still stayed connected and asked for advice.
One day, a client handed me a “ropeless jump rope” and asked what I thought.
She said she heard jumping was good for lymph drainage—but she was 60 and not trying to break her hip.
So I tried it.
And immediately thought:
WTF?! Is this jump rope cosplay?
It was awkward. Unbalanced. Bruise-inducing.
It felt like a lawsuit waiting to happen.
(I mean—who attaches a weighted ball to a plastic string?!)
But something about the device got me curious.
So instead of mocking it—I started redesigning it.
And then—I did what I used to do as a kid with toys:
I ignored the directions, took it apart, and made up a better game.
I reworked and MacGyvered the tool—softened it, balanced it, made it smoother, safer.
And then I played with it.
Not like a jump rope.
Because it’s not a damn jump rope.
Instead—I got to know it for what it was.
It felt more like a spinning wand.
So I started moving and spinning with it.
I let my arms move intuitively:
Figure eights.
Forward and back.
Sweeping arcs around me.
I wasn’t working out—
I was tuning in.
Tuning up.
My mind quieted.
My body listened.
My field shifted.
My arms… shredded?!
It felt like play.
But it worked like therapy…
With just the right amount of sweat and sparkle and—
Joy.
And then—one night, walking alone through a dark NYC park with my prototype in hand, I had a thought:
“You know what would be cool? If this thing lit up. Also… it might deter the NYC creepers. 🤔”
Because sometimes, all you need in the dark
is one glowing thing to follow—
and a little light to keep the dark away.
So I made it glow.
A LITTLE SPOILER
(Thanks, Joy—literal joy and Joy the movie)
If you haven’t seen the movie Joy—it’s about a sleep-deprived, cash-strapped woman who accidentally changes the world by inventing a mop.
Let’s just say:
That night in the park?
That was my mop moment.
I sketched it.
Contacted a factory.
Filed a patent.
And Le Cirk was born.
Not to sell.
Not to go viral.
But to spark something—in me, and eventually, in others.
✨ WHAT IS LE CIRK?
On the surface?
It’s a circular energy movement tool.
A soft-glowing nunchuck in drag.
A recalibration portal you can hold in your hand.
But really?
Le Cirk is a relationship.
You don’t “use” Le Cirk.
You get to know it.
And when you do—
it shifts you.
It’s a nervous system whisperer.
A way to help your body trust you again.
It connects:
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your arms to your nervous system
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your body to your field
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your focus to the present moment
It’s something you think you’re playing with for fun…
and later realize it changed your whole damn day.
🛑 WHY WE DON’T SELL IT (YET)
I’ve decided that—for now—Le Cirk isn’t something you buy.
It’s something you experience.
Something you fall in love with.
When you become part of the Playground, you get to play with one.
You get to fall in love with it.
And when the rhythm feels right—
we gift you your own.
Le Cirk is the pulse and heartbeat of the Playground.
And when you find your rhythm with us—
you get one to keep.
Will we sell them eventually?
Maybe.
But this is how it begins.
Glow first. Shop later.
(Oh—and while Le Cirk isn’t for sale, classes aren’t free. But they are sliding scale.
And if you’re over 80? Your money’s no good here.)
💜 WHY YOU’RE HERE
Because you saw something.
Or you felt something.
Maybe you took the card just to be polite.
But somewhere deep down, you probably knew:
“These might be my people.
This might be my movement.
This might be home.”
And honestly?
That’s all that matters.
Welcome in.
We’re already better with you here.
🌍 CURRENT UNDERGROUND CHAPTERS
Each chapter has its own rhythm.
Its own rituals.
Its own rebel heartbeat.
🌀 Valencia, Spain — Led by Karen Nuccio (Karennina to my friends)
The original pulse. Beach walks, nervous system recalibration, espresso-fueled revolutions.
🌀 New York City, USA — Jeannie Strait + Jocelyne Valere
Rooftop rituals. West Village meets Harlem energy. Subway soul retrievals. Cookies. And the occasional gelato.
🌀 Dallas, Texas — Raquel Renda
Body whisperer. Supermom. High-functioning healer haven. Big skies. Soft landings. Subtle rebellions.
🌀 Finland — Laura Hakanpaa
Forest medicine. Snow truths. Laughing through the ice. Mischief in mittens.
🌀 Taormina, Sicily — Anna
Ancestral codes. Volcano rituals. Sea-fueled recalibration. Sicily with soul.
🌀 Abuela/Nona Chapter — The Special Forces Unit
Led by Carmen + Apolonia (Spain)
No hashtags. No filters. Just old-world wisdom, fresh figs, and truths wrapped in tortilla.
RULES OF THE UNDERGROUND PLAYGROUND
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We don’t perform joy.
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We don’t perform wellness.
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We don’t perform.
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Period.
You come as you are.
You move what needs moving.
You leave lighter, louder, softer—or none of the above.
There’s no goal here but real.
We laugh.
We sweat out the bullshit.
We breathe in the good shit.
We hold each other’s hands—when needed.
And we always walk each other home.
(Metaphorically always. Literally, when we can.)
HOW TO JOIN
You don’t.
Not in the traditional sense.
You find the Playground when it’s time.
Or it finds you.
Most people hear about it from a friend,
a card on a café table,
or by walking past a park class and thinking—
“Wait… those are my people.”
This isn’t content.
This is contact.
To join, you need:
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A body
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A heart
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A sense of humor
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And a connection to someone already inside
You can’t buy your way in.
But you can belong your way in.
WHAT HAPPENS HERE?
(That Doesn’t Happen Online)
Often, what happens after class is even more powerful than the class itself:
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Le Cirk sacred rituals on the beach or in basements
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Storytelling circles with candlelight and espresso
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Dance therapy without therapy-speak
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Grown-up playdates for adults who forgot how to play
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Intergenerational magic passed through tone, touch, and food
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Sobbing, laughing, howling, hugging
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No selfies. No hashtags. Just sacred memory.
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Real friends. The kind who walk you home
If you love it—we’re so glad.
If you feel it—you’re already one of us.
And if you stay?
Well…
We’re about to glow even brighter.
🌀🌀🌀