It’s not just the large gym or small studio in urban or rural U.S. Globally the fitness industry is metaphorically scratching its head wondering how to handle each day. Though there is no one who is able to predict the future, it is becoming increasingly clear that a “return” to life as it was before the pandemic (and it’s not over yet, oh dear) is not a reality. Can we patch things up and do a mockup of something similar? Can we limit numbers, insure spacing, sanitize endlessly, mask uncomfortably, and provide safety assurances? Is that even productive or wise?

finding ways to distance and pause
This post is not yet another diatribe about the state of today’s world financially, socially, politically, or medically. It is a small voice from the small perspective of a small town in Vermont. I am a Personal Trainer and Yoga Instructor and, primarily because I have participated in many activities and am constantly studying anything available relative to my work, my depth of information and practice is appreciable. Over the years, working one on one, in small groups or large classes, as a director of a gym and as an athletic coach for individual sports, I have watched participants, sometimes reluctantly-sometimes enthusiastically, strain, drive, compete and press towards goals on individual paths. I, too, became obsessed with heart rates, watts, mileage, speed, power and an infinite variety of numbers to measure everything from fuel to output to recovery time all designed to indicate success or failure.

Savasana
Fortunately for my own personal well-being and hopefully for that of my students and clients, I have become passionate about the practice of Yoga – whether it is Yoga for Athletes (my introduction to Yoga with Sage Rountree), Vinyasa (thank you Freeport Yoga Company and Kripalu) or the complementary practice of Yin Yoga (Josh Summers and Terry Cockburn, Summers School of Yin Yoga). I can speak only from my very small dot on the map of “return.”
Who knew? Those of us who have spent 200, 300, 500, 1,000 hours in Yoga Teacher Trainings, specialty courses, even in cadaver labs as we have learned about the thousands of years old Yoga theory and practice, anatomy, even how to teach; who knew that we would need to add a crash course in technology and become adept at something called live-streaming, recording or Zoom? Who knew we would suddenly need to learn to teach a different way – and, for that matter, to learn a different way as we joined other students in other teachers’ virtual classes? Who knew we would be faced with legal technicalities, internet crashes and how to create space in which to teach, adapt or purchase camera and sound equipment and on and on and on.
Perhaps the trickiest hurdle has been connecting with our students and providing them with practice and support that is worthy of their fee. In the beginning many teachers offered online services as a gift. The next step was an honor system. Then links and passwords needed to be purchased and voila a new industry was born. Recently I listened to a mind-boggling podcast about a new wave of abuse – no, not the inappropriate touching scandal that has suddenly vanished – but the abuse of instructors who are paid a set sum to teach their class and then forever after their videos are sold with profit only to the business owner. Ouch. (And, as I have used the word “small” frequently in this post, please note that in the small studio where I work this is a completely foreign concept. We are all in this together supporting each other and our lovely leader, Ana. http://www.mountainrosevt.com) Just sayin’

quiet trails for exercise and contemplation
But there are beautiful and significant observations to be made as well. As soon as it was deemed safe to go outdoors, masked and spaced, individuals and families, thrilled to be able to do so, were out the door walking, running, hiking, strolling, climbing, cycling and paddling. Gone was the drive that forced such an adventure. Exercise, action, the outdoors, all became a privilege and, in this new light, became gifted joy.
Community has been redefined. Even the tiniest connection – a phone call or text, photo or face time, card or package – is duly appreciated forging bonds replacing tenuous strands. And in my own small (there’s that word again) world of Zoom, those minutes of unmuted video before and after a teacher-led practice are golden; they are fun and sensitive and compelling moments of genuine community.

Inserting stillness, a by-product of Yoga, everywhere and anywhere.
Virtual hugs are bogus, are they not? Those foolish little emoji of the smiling face with 2 arms? Give me a break. I’m not so sure about the etiquette of a handshake, but we will hug again. We cannot resist! But perhaps we will retain some of the goodness of this experience. Perhaps we will live a cleaner and simpler life. Perhaps we will offer and receive touch untainted by skepticism or misunderstanding. Perhaps we will gratefully relish the effort to proactively care for our own well-being in order to reach out to others in our lives. Perhaps we will loosen the fetters of restrained emotions and be honest, sharing and, yes, grateful. Perhaps we will find cause for happiness in things as presumably insignificant as a buzzing bee all the way up to financial stability or a clean bill of health.
Perhaps we will like taking a Yoga class in a new setting, bringing our own props, and washing our hands.

create a personal home Yoga space
Perhaps we will even like participating in a Yoga practice in a virtual community, as we say, “live or later.” Perhaps we are ready for what is new and not a mended version of what was before. Perhaps.

As I write this, the strands of the tightly laced corset of a National response to the pandemic Coronavirus of 2020 are being loosened. Unprecedented. Social distancing. Refrigerated trucks. Protest. Connection. Zoom. Essential. Quarantine. Hoarding. Generosity. Curbside. Antibodies. And my personal favorite: “Anthony Fauci has been nominated as sexiest man of the year.” Not only is the Coronavirus “novel,” daily life is about as novel as it gets.






Here in the mountains of the NorthEast, celebration seems to succumb to the magnetic pull of nature. Over a decade ago I was invited to join good friends for a full moon snowshoe. That hike, as well as the brilliantly lit drive back home on a normally dark country road, was so remarkable that to this day I continue to find some way to celebrate as many full moons as possible. Today I plan a hike with my dog and 2 family members to a summit that will give me a 360 view from the lake to the mountains. The moon rises early so I’ll probably hike up in the alpenglow of the sunset and bathe in the light of the moon at the top. At other times I have paddled off the coast of Maine, picnicked in the dark, led a full moon Yin Yoga class or walked along the river. Always I marvel at the speed with which the moon rises. Always I value the opportunity to experience the moon – alone with my pup or with friends or family – with those in my life.
The concept of THAW is pretty simple: what is hard or frozen softens or liquifies in the presence of warmth. When THAW = MELT one can explore myriad possibilities and implications – physically, mentally and emotionally.
When the thermometer rises, the winds blow and the rain pounds down in Northern New England, plans change abruptly to include flood warnings, power outages and just plain disappointment. As I write this, it is January 11 and there is, of course, the notion that this is simply our “January thaw” for this year. On the other hand, with all the horrific weather events that we’re (almost) getting used to, and the fact that this is, what, our 6th thaw this winter (?), is this alarming? At best, though it gives us pause. In spite of the ever-present threat of the possibility of damage or danger caused by irresistible forces of nature, there is relief from biting cold and an almost playful tease in the air. (60 degrees? Really?!)
Today, while Sophie, my Chocolate Lab, and I took an unusually long time to travel an unusually short distance trudging our usual trails, I had plenty of time to laugh at her as she found opportunity to make a game out of just about everything. I also pondered the word THAW. Playing with shades of significance is an organic game. Toss a pebble (word) into a pond (mind) and watch the ripples (ideas) flow and expand.



“Love intentionally, extravagantly, unconditionally. The broken world waits in darkness for the light that is you.” (Gratefullness.org)



Life is not a toggle switch. Exempting trauma, accident, lightening strikes and the like, life seems to plod or race from one stage to another, but always with some sort of modulation. Though arrival at the next event is the goal, perhaps it is in the interim, the preparation, the transition, that life is experienced authentically.
Today did we turn off summer and turn on autumn? I think not. This morning I took a few pictures of my gardens, loving the richness of color and the integration of signs of autumn, fallen leaves among the remaining blooms. Nature defines transition by the juxtaposition of the good with the bad, the colorful with the bland, the new with the old.
Seasons teach us life lessons. Letting go of the past and moving on can be heartbreaking or exhilarating. While we honor the past for joys and sorrows, skills to progress and experience to rely upon for future challenges, we recognize that each step has led us to where we are now. We are grateful for the textured fabric of existence that weaves a piece of great beauty. We are reminded to protect and to give back.


