All Good Things Must Come
The only constant, as the saying goes, is change. We’re learning to navigate a new reality, one being shaped by something we can’t even see, but something that continues to affect thousands of people and communities worldwide.
We’re seeing and hearing reports on a daily, sometimes hourly basis on the impact of Covid-19 and what our leaders are doing to minimize its influence and keep us as safe as possible.
We’re dealing with a host of changing recommendations on how best to protect ourselves (not to mention some decidedly uncivilized behaviors in the buying of hand sanitizers and toilet paper); national and deserved attention on the poisonous stain of systemic racism; police brutality; dwindling confidence in the highest levels of our leadership;
our planetary environmental crisis; and don’t get me started on murder hornets.
Somewhere in the back of our minds, we’re nurturing a hope that things will soon “return to normal”. I’ve seen variations of that idea in emails from local businesses; from journalists trying to inject sanity into this crazy situation; or from politicians behaving like parents comforting their child after a bad dream.
Normal. The word itself is like a sigh of relief. Truth is, we took it for granted. That alarm went off in the morning — ugh. Did we wake with a sense of purpose and joy, of gratitude for another day of existence in this form in this life, with all of its possibilities? Or did we grumble our way through the day, letting little things like a barista getting our Starbucks order wrong or more traffic from tourists turn our mood sour?
One of primary aspects of change is its ability to help us see things in a new way. I’ve come to look at our current reality as a reset of sorts. There are a lot of terrible things happening right now. There are also a lot of good things happening. On a larger scale, we’re seeing a change in nature (after decades of abuse, Mother Earth finally had enough and sent us to our rooms to think about what we’ve done). Communities are finding new ways to support and connect to each other. In cities like ours privileged enough to have them, farmer’s markets are thriving. People are discovering and rediscovering their love of conversation, art, music, dance and the poetry of the written word.
Are we going ‘back to normal’? I don’t think so. What we are doing, right now, is living firmly in the present moment with all of its glorious uncertainty. It’s going to take some getting use to — and that brings me to the next part of this rather long post.
Myself and your teachers (Karol, Barry, Maggie, Trish, Martha, Candace and Dylan) have worked hard to make Peace Love Yoga Palm Springs a unique yoga studio. For the past six years, we’ve maintained the vision Randy Harwood had when she first opened the studio: Make it a place of transformation and acceptance, where everyone would be welcome to learn and practice yoga. Over the years, we introduced new techniques — reiki, Pilates and soundbaths, oh my! — and watched our studio grow in ways we hadn’t imagined.
As difficult as it is, we’ve decided the time has come to close our doors and move mindfully to the next part of the journey. That means we’ll be exploring different teaching options, including in-person, private classes that conform to our new social distancing reality as well as offering classes online. A few of our dedicated teachers have already made the transition and we hope you’ll continue to support them.
In closing, I don’t have the words to express the love and gratitude I feel toward each of you. You shared not only your passion for yoga, but also the exquisite light only you possess. Hold the memories of our time on the mat close, as I will, and let them fill you with joy.
One journey ends; another begins.
We’ll see you on the journey soon.