I feel good, I thought. I’ve accomplished a lot and successfully been able to support myself self employed for a year now. 2018 is going to be a great year. I’m going to teach so many workshops and yoga classes! And travel! And work on furthering my yoga training!
These were the things going through my head on January 1st, 2018. I had just finished doing 108 sun salutations and burning palo santo in my home yoga space. I had laryngitis, but I felt warm and excited about the things to come. I had set my intentions and my goals for the year. I was going to start teaching more privates, and market more, and and and and. It was a great feeling!
January 2nd, 2018. The yoga studio I was teaching at was scheduled to have a meeting that evening. I was still sick, and didn’t feel like I would be up to staying out so late. I texted the studio manager saying that I didn’t know if I would be able to make it due to not feeling well. She said “that’s fine, but I’ll need to talk with you ASAP”. I didn’t think much of it, really. I called her that afternoon.
She told me that our studio was closing, most likely in two weeks. She hadn’t made a decision yet on the final date, but it was most likely happening sometime in January.
I accepted this news with indifference.
I talked with her some more, then we got off the phone. I was scheduled to teach that night, in about 2 hours. So, I drove to the studio with an hour and a half left before my class started. I couldn’t tell my students yet, because there was so many unknowns. I sat on my yoga mat, in my empty studio home, and cried. I let myself feel it all.
I first entered Karmany in late 2015. I had just moved to Fort Worth and was looking for a place to practice in. It was donation based, which I liked, because at the time I was supporting both myself and my husband financially. I fell in love with the studio, the community, and the teachers there. I liked that it fit my budget, but also my heart. When I had the privilege to start teaching there in January of 2017, I felt so lucky and was so happy to give back to the community.
I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to this place.
And I felt foolish. Just the day before, I sat in my yoga space, smug, thinking that “this was going to be my year”.
I’m constantly reminded that the rug can be pulled out at any time. This was out of my control. There is literally nothing I could have done to prevent this from happening. I no longer had a place to teach.
So, I cried, and I journaled, and I flowed. I moved on my mat and let my tears fall. Then I meditated, got ready for class, then taught what would be one of my last few classes to teach in the studio.
I went home that evening and processed with my husband how I was feeling. I let myself feel sad. I needed to feel this sadness; to grieve this loss. I knew in my heart that it will all be ok. This year was already showing me that I can make plans and think I know where I’m headed, but the Universe will have other ideas.
It wasn’t until about five days later that I realized – I will no longer have a yoga home when this studio closes. I have been practicing there for 2 years. Where will I go? I am, what my best friend coined, a “yoga orphan”. Then I had to process this grief, too, which may have been harder than the first round.
Throughout the last two weeks that the studio was open, I was blown away by the people. I taught some of my best classes, always afraid it would be my last. I took more classes than usual, trying to soak up the space as much as possible. I would get to the studio an hour early before my classes to meditate and just look at the walls.
Then we announced that we were closing. The outpouring of love from the yoga community was immense and big. So many teachers and students in Fort Worth started their practice or teaching careers there. It felt like a pulse through the city’s yoga community. It has so much heart and soul. I knew that it was going to be a loss bigger than what just myself was feeling. I felt a great sense of solace in that. I loved reading and hearing people’s responses and stories about Karmany. It all made me smile — and also cry a little. I knew that the love of the studio would live on in the people who taught and practiced there. It eased the pain a little.
Then came the morning I would teach my last class ever, a Thursday morning 6 am class. I usually had about 2-3 people in my 6 am classes, so I was speechless when on my last class I had 8 people show up. I taught class (I honestly can’t even remember the sequence!), and decided to put on John Mayer’s cover of Beyoncé‘s “XO” for savasana. As I walked around spraying my essential oil mixture over my students, I felt the tears come. I heard the music that I love, felt the energy of these students I adored, and let the tears crash. I had to go to the back just to collect myself before bringing my students out of their final rest. And, when it came time to namaste, I felt like I was sobbing. I got so many hugs and beautiful words from them before we all went our separate ways. It was joyful and sad and beautiful and the perfect way to end my teaching period in that space. I’m lucky. I’m eternally grateful.
Now, I’m still trying to figure out where my new yoga home will be. I know that those people will flow together again someday. I know I will teach again. But I’m letting it simmer. I’m finding my footing. I’m in no rush, because I know that the Universe has a bigger plan that I can’t see yet.
It’s important to remember that you’ll get knocked off your feet a time or two. You’ll think you got them fooled, that you’re in complete control. And in that moment, you’ll be shown that – oh wait, you’re not really in control at all. What a humble reminder that we are all passengers on this journey together. What truly matters is how we handle the bumps in the road, the unknown paths our lives will take us. When I walked in to Karmany all those years ago, I never once thought I’d be teaching or crying there. But, here we are. That is my reality. Acceptance of this can be challenging, but when you extend yourself some grace and trust the process, you’ll be amazed at where you land.
I, for one, am so excited (and a little anxious) to see what happens from here. It may not be what I originally intended my 2018 to look like, but I’m here for the ride. I know it will be great. I hope you’ll join me along the way.