Writing this entry begins with acknowledging my own hesitancy to write or say anything too honest. See, we are living in a “worst fears” kind of scenario for me. When I left my former job, I knew there were financial risks associated with leaving a predictable salary with (shitty) insurance and paid leave. There is a widespread non-acknowledgement of the risks of staying in (under-supported, underpaid, no-path-forward) salaried jobs past the point one’s personal health can support it. It seems widely understood that splitting time between part-time and self-employed work is more precarious. There is a widespread non-acknowledgement that the expansion of the part-time and self-employed segment of the economy (the alleged “recovery” from the 2008 financial collapse I graduated law school into) was a dangerous expansion of precarity in the overall economy. It reflects more hesitant business investment in payrolls, which is BAD for working people. But “unemployment was at record lows.” (DEAR GOD DO I ROLL MY EYES AT THIS.) During the time I came to the decision to teach yoga and figure out make ends meet, I fretted over the possibilities of my own injury or illness bringing everything down that I was working for. And I worried that, having barely treaded water through one major recession, I might weather a “next time” even more poorly. So here we are with world economies in a freefall, and I am worried that I shouldn’t say those parts out loud, because people come to yoga to feel better. And who’s gonna buy my yoga if I am a huge downer? (Oh hey, depression thoughts–still here, I see.)
What I think I am experiencing is some emotional avoidance and denial, in the form of feeling pressure to choose a “more marketable” perspective to share. And so I have to look hard, here, and decide whether I am offering yoga and mindfulness, or the “more marketable” inspiration-sounding fluff that dominates the health and wellness industry. Don’t get me wrong, I want everyone leaving a yoga class with a fresh perspective, maybe even inspiration, and feeling better. I just know from my own use of these practices that I don’t have to get high on empty affirmations or “forget about my problems” for yoga and meditation to make positive changes. Mindfulness practices aren’t intoxicants, and they don’t remove us from perceiving our harsh experiences. To the contrary, in my practice, bringing full presence of mind into my frequently harsh inner experiences helps me to overcome outward inertia, helps me be proactive, helps me forgive myself for a depressed day spent almost totally still on the couch, and helps me keep an open mind for new opportunities. Maybe everything will fall apart, even with my best efforts. And if it does, I must hope that I have built enough strength around my belief in my fundamental Worth and Worthiness as a being, to withstand the future.
This week in yoga, I offered exploration of a couple of different sequences with the suggestion to intentionally move the gaze through a movement. Where we place our physical sight affects our posture and balance, whether or not we are paying attention to where we are looking. Keeping the gaze on the floor out ahead of the body makes balancing on one foot easier. Looking up higher requires more effort to maintain the balance. Gazing up at the top palm in Peaceful Warrior or Extended Side angle can make those poses more challenging to maintain, maybe also bring awareness to new spaces in the shoulder and chest. Within a few simple physical movements is a powerful experience of being in charge of our own attention. In the mind, this means examining all the things that come into our awareness, without judgment or assessment. What am I witnessing in myself in this moment? How am I interacting with the world and with others? Can I see somewhere in my life that I have been thoughtless and reactive? Can I see what “shoulds” and “shouldn’ts” I have unconsciously imposed on myself? We each have a role as a witness to our own experience, and to the world around us. A witness capable of communicating truth is someone whose view is not obstructed, who understands the limitations on his or her own perspective, who observes and speaks from a place of remove. The Witness is not a Judge. The Witness doesn’t delve into the Why. So as The Witness who seeks to share truth, what is passing through my attention? Where can I choose to aim my attention to serve my highest good?
In the world, I witness people who have little or no control over the constant new demands on their efforts. Teachers are learning how to get half a semester’s worth of class content onto online platforms, and participating in discussions about how to do grades this year. Parents are learning and connecting to ten different online tools to support their kids’ education during school closures. Those “lucky” enough to still have identical and consistent income are making a change to remote work with ever-shifting expectations, and learning to share 24/7 space with partners and kids. Those who have lost jobs due to the closures–especially those fully or partly self-employed–are struggling to understand where they fit within their state’s unemployment benefits structure, and whether it will even help. Or help in time. Some people are relishing full solitude, while others find it very unsettling. Some people seem to avoid all credible information about the risks associated with uncontrolled spread of COVID-19. Some people compulsively refresh page after page of charts and numbers and rates and share upbeat captions of pictures of themselves in masks. Most everyone is learning how much they rely on food and toilet paper outside their own house, and how many trips to the grocery store they really make in a week. We are helpless to support front line health care workers whose pay and job dignity are toilet paper on the ass of their corporate overlords. In myself, I witness a feeling of desperation for those who deliver health services to be supported, the terms of their jobs created with their human dignity in mind. All of this is a LOT of new engagement of our attention, and a LOT of stress. It is exhausting. I honestly hope everyone adds an hour of sleep to every day. And I hope everyone is finding space outside the Cult of Productivity to give themselves kind attention. It matters.
Everything that’s certain (Shelter In Place orders) is unfamiliar, and very, very few things about our futures seem certain anymore. Not that the future WAS certain before this pandemic, but at least the way I lived, the day-to-day grind made it feel like there was certainty about the future. I have not seen a yoga student in 3D in a month. A month ago, I would have scoffed at the idea that we would not be back in class by now. In myself, I witness my stress at sorting out my work life, shame at having human needs I struggle to meet, guilt over the resources and security I am privileged to have, hope and pride when I send out applications and cover letters for freelance work, frustration at what I lack in yoga video self-production, joy at the amount of baking I get to do, and relief that I’m not daily packing up 12+ hours of my life to drive all over multiple counties for too little money. What I notice, in addition to the very obvious anxiety and depression, is dissonance.
Dissonance, this simultaneous experience of seemingly conflicting feelings, makes a lot of people (It’s me, I’m a lot of people) deeply uncomfortable. I think in the past, I have experienced cognitive and emotional dissonance as unpleasant “noise.” In an environment of physical noise that reaches a certain volume or convolution, my first impulse is to avoid it or try to reduce ALL of it. It’s much the same in the environment of my mental and emotional noise. What I know now is, the only true relief from the tension and stress of mental and emotional noise, is to stay within the experience, listen over time, and sort out the different tones. If I can use my attention to notice and separate my conflicting thoughts and emotions, maybe I then have opportunity to think about where each piece could fit in a more harmonious way. Maybe I’m more likely to notice where I have an opportunity to act in a positive way. Maybe I can see a place where I am wasting energy, or recognize how much rest I need. Maybe I can release anything that was rigid in my view of my future. Maybe I can shrink down the scope of what I think I can control to its true size. Maybe I can acknowledge the burden of coping with all this change and uncertainty. If it all falls apart, it was honestly going to do that anyway. Maybe I can still breathe in a post-fell-apart world.
The Sassafras Cottage 