I decided this morning, or really last night, that I am not going to offer a weekend yoga retreat in Stowe this fall. And as with most decisions, arriving there was not without substantial difficulty, and being here is no big whoop and also a massive relief. It was extra tempting, ya know? But I think that is due almost entirely to the offer presenting itself right in the midst of the most regular and rewarding in-person teaching I have done in years. I got caught up in all of those good feelings and just really wanted to keep it all rolling.
Teaching on Islesford this summer; more than I thought I would by popular request; was such a treat to my whole system. A buried part of me got excavated and dragged back up to the light and I feel myself in, at once, a new and wholly familiar way. I think it was kinda like that for folks that came to class too. So many people shared such similar feelings to me along the lines of: “oh my god it’s been forever since I’ve done any yoga” or “I have only been practicing by myself, alone and at home, in virtual classes” and “I just feel so much better in so many ways after class with you and everyone” and “I am moving and breathing and thinking and inhabiting my whole self with so much more connection and ease.” I mean, it was all the way wow. And I could sip on sentiments like that: and those kinds of affirmations and encouragements, all the live long day.
I got carried away. And why shouldn’t I?
But something I also know is that the time spent planning and prepping and filling a retreat in Costa Rica this past year took up so much of my bandwidth, mentally and emotionally, and the cumulative anxiety that I experienced putting the retreat together was nearly debilitating at times. It was a lot. And it didn’t leave much left for anything else. So, in a complete turn of events, I am choosing less for myself as a way of choosing more.
That is hard for me y’all! With Eider going to school this fall, and Wilfred in nursery school twice a week, I feel giddy and overeager at the possibility of what I can accomplish with some unfettered, untethered, undetermined time on my hands. And yet, also I think I am making some efforts to numb my feelings around this whole change. That may very well be real too. This will be the first time in 8 years that I haven’t been homeschooling, and while I plan to homeschool Wilfred, the reality of that is still a ways off in terms of how I approach things. Anything other than place-based play before age seven or so isn’t of incredible use in my experience and opinion; other than addressing any literacy challenges that are presenting themselves. But that seems like another post for another day… So, I am loose right now in a way haven’t been in what feels like an entire lifetime. And in that looseness, I am releasing and shedding a skin that I no longer need to wear, that no longer fits as well as it once did. I am churning inside the story of my own becoming; my own evolution. I am as ever, my own agent of change.
But do not doubt that in my quiet moments I completely circle the drain regarding our decision for Eid to head to school. I am so nervous. I want it to be amazing, or at the very least: great enough. I especially want his love of learning, which was the entire point and purpose of homeschooling, to begin with, to remain intact. It must. It has to. Right? But I am still nervous about the shift. He will be primarily in the hands of educators other than myself. And yet, what I have known to be true for a long time and continues to be true for the duration of my children’s education, is that the people most accountable and responsible for our kids’ learning are always going to be Chris and me. Most other educators and mentors will come and go, but god willing, the two of us hold the space and provide the ground upon which it all takes shape, develops, and thrives, throughout. This revelation landed us in home education to begin with. Not without some struggle and resistance: it is not what we are taught to believe about school and learning. And yet, to believe or trust in anything else is in my mind another version of magical thinking.
And boy do I know a thing or two about magical thinking! And it seems to be all for the most part pretty well documented throughout the seven-and-a-half-year life span of this blog! Part of that thinking is even just the sometimes thought that maybe I am passed it and am now inexplicably firmly rooted in the reality of being in the here and now. As it is. Secure in my truth. Alas, I continue to be a permeable blob of easily influenced cells and sentiments. I hope to at least believe that I am becoming more aware of the times when something other than my own voice begins to infiltrate my thoughts. I have an example, and it is my hope that it serves to highlight something under the service for perhaps more folks than just myself.
Here it is: early in the summer I spent a lot of time taking Freddy to the beach to meet up with other moms and kiddos. And listen, I love heat, I love water, I love skimpy swimwear. Over the last few years, however, I have been making sure I have a few more modest suits so as to “protect other people’s feelings” or some such shit. So in one of these instances, I was standing on the beach and found myself deep in thought regarding whether or not I should just get some sort of black swim dress for these mom and kid beach outings. I traveled down the path of this idea for quite a while before I grabbed hold of some stronger aspect of myself and was like: who the fuck’s thought was that inside my head anyway??? It certainly was not my own.
After that initial noticing, I stuck with it, paying attention in that way. When I can, as I am able. What thoughts am I thinking that may not belong to me? What are the things that I am telling myself that really do not originate with me, but with someone, or something else? What are the ways that various aspects of the dominant culture have seeped into the space between my ears and then parrot themselves via my internal dialogue are external speech? It probably comes as no real surprise, but the list is endless. The swimsuit example is of course beside the point, however, it has served as a catalyst of sorts for beginning to travel this particular path of self-inquiry that I find myself on now. Because, obviously, it doesn’t end there. Especially as it has to do with self-image, self-worth, and self-respect.
In an effort to hopefully circle back to the beginning of this post, I think that this is one of the places in my life that I am interested in cultivating a little bit more slowness and space around. Doing less as a way of seeing and sensing more. I am especially interested in feeling into the parts of myself that are populated with the belief that I am a fake or a phony or who do I think I even am anyway, etcetera times infinity. I am curious to see what happens when I do not just auto-pilot fill all of the space in my days up and instead take a little more time sitting with what is and looking for the source that lives inside of what I think and how I feel and maybe even who I am.
In terms of teaching, which is something that supports me in feeling very much like me, beginning in September I will offer one in-person class a week at Open Space in Hardwick (up above Front Seat, so cute!) on Wednesday evenings from 5:45 to 7 pm. I am also running a virtual class series again beginning Tuesday, August 30th, and running for 5 weeks. Those classes are 45-minutes each and feel just right in terms of time spent in screen-based yoga as well as my continued desire for community touchstones with everyone who lives away.
So that is it for now. Kinda fluid, kinda curious, and as ever working on feeling ok in my own humanity and cultivating ease of mind and heart. How we do. Love you. m
ps a quick note on this image: I LOVE it. I see me like how I feel me right now in this image. It is in support of the whole of me. And I am certainly feeling myself right now. Beyond any one part: not just mom, not just meg, not just teacher, not just friend; but Meg on the whole. Integrated in a way that has felt distant for some years. Like I am both domesticated and feral and it feels like the truest paradoxical truth of me. Islesford gave me a lot this summer and this is the very heart of it. Both/And as it lives in my very marrow.