Winter break is over. The routine starts again. I plant myself around the rhythms of the house with my new art/work space (THANK YOU DAVE!) in the room between the kitchen and the bedrooms and begin climbing like a vine- filling cracks, stretching, circling, reaching higher and finding perspective. With this cracking open of a new year and the release of my care-full intentions, my dusted off drive welcomes what is coming as I take stock of what got me to today; the angels and the demons that hit home. And as if looking in a rearview mirror, I glimpse the landscape of what was as my momentum takes me forward.
Teachers that taught
Songs that comforted
Breaths taken
Friends that called
Books read
Distances traveled
Resolutions kept
The practices
The edits
The whoops
The exhales
One of the biggest successes of the past year between lockdowns, social distancing, moving, has been access. There were points of entry to meet my every need from today's vast virtual library. My angels included Caroline Myss, the Rose family, Tara Brach, Vampire Weekend, Billy Collins, Mackelmore, Anne Patchett, Jess King, Elisabeth Gilbert, Vulfpeck, Deepak Chopra, Krista Tippet, Dawes, Fitz and the Tantrums, Denis Morton, Omar Sosa, Christopher Nolan, Sue Monk Kidd... I don't know about you, but I have spent hours upon hours on Spotify, Peloton, Sounds True seminars, YouTube lectures, Ted Talks, Netflix, Curiosity Stream, Masterclass sessions, Audible, Headspace, Chopra meditations, and listened to podcast after podcast. In some way these courses have filled me up and helped me find structure and purpose in a shut down world and, yet, the downfall/demon was the lack of a space to share my experience with. The revelations that rose to the surface were realized and mostly contained within my earbuds or when I am was driving alone in my car. Yes, a friend may take the same class or I may recommend a podast or receive a friend's playlist (and this was as close to connecting as it came within this web of pre-recordings) but there was no feedback or place to mingle with an idea other than within my own psyche. There were no visceral vibrations to respond to- coughs in the background, water bottles clanking onto the floor, raised hands, sideways laughter. Almost everything I watched or listened to was produced and shiny with noise cancelling technology and one microphone. My intense gratitude for the access met frustration because of missed intimacy. No sounds of scribbling, no bathroom breaks, no conversations in the hallway or the locker-room... But, even within this abundant sensorial void, I remain hungry to do my next ride (at any time of day) and continue to seek out online courses.
I think in response to my feelings of disconnection in an ever-present virtually connected world, this weekend I took a "live" yoga class for the first time in a while. It was with a teacher I have known for a long time in a studio I have gone to for the last 10 years. I immediately felt at home in the blur of her masked face, the technical adjustments with her microphone, the stragglers that were joining the class that I could not see on my screen but were greeted by Vicki as they came in. It was all so familiar- the space, the sounds, the structure of the class. As I practiced on the balcony over looking Hans Lollick, I was in the care of one of my angels, transported with breath work, poses and music into a state of connection within my own body and the body of people that were practicing. There were no "hi five" buttons to push or notes to take in a random notebook, just me, my mat, props and computer. The live class was real and raw, at least on my end, as I struggled with parsva bakasana (side crow pose) and cursed out loud, imagining the studio could hear me and see me shaking. (A silver lining of being at home for "live" classes!)
I also listened to an unedited version of On Being w/Krista Tippet and Frank Wilczek. Not only was the conversation inspired and beautiful (even though I usually go blank when someone is talking about physics) but the quirks of the conversation were just what I needed to remember that everything has a first draft, second draft... final draft. (Something that I keep reminding myself as I pour my heart onto this page in mostly first draft versions- a void without instant feedback.) Hearing the sound guy fix something on Frank's microphone and Krista holding onto her question and repeating it as many times as necessary in the midst of the technology kurfuffle was, simply, heartwarming. I glowed from the inside as I was tidying up around the house, listening and giggling at the humanity of it all- the unpolished version. It was as if I were in the room and Krista and Frank could hear my own sighs and snorts.
As I list these angels, demons and moments- I can't help but think about the ways that the angels (mostly shiny and bright) light up our paths and potential while the demons (what I choose to consider as playful little suckers) are there to remind us of our human selves, grounding us with what is possible (for now) and unscripted. Their duality of light and dark prompts us to reach and earth ourselves. A forever process of no regrets, just notes to self, as we choose where to put our attention and intention. For me, as of January 2021, it's about finding ways to connect within and outside of myself, having teachers and taking lessons that inspire and guide, and accepting the grittiness that comes my way, asking for help as needed.
That said:
What about your angels & demons?
Where have you felt connected this year?
Who lights you up and what makes you ground?
I'd love to hear...
And just in case you need a little intimacy and rawness:
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