On Time, March 2021
Can words describe the fragrance of the very breath of spring?
-Neltje Blanchan
Photo: Mahina Choy-Ellis
I can't believe it's been almost one year since I began teaching virtually from my living room studio. My first class (on my 40th birthday!) was such a great success despite my internet going out and being so full of nerves like it was my first day teaching Pilates! In the year since I've relaxed (mostly) and really tried to tune into the needs of each of you. It has been a challenge at times--to find connection and to feel integrous with my offerings in this format. And yet, to be able to reconnect with clients and friends from all over the world (Berlin, Austin, Lisbon, London, San Francisco, Memphis, New Orleans, Kansas City, Minneapolis, Los Angeles, Nice, Florida Keys, Martinique!) has been truly a gift. I've learned so much and I thank you for that.
In the past year I've thought a lot about time--as both a construct and an abstraction. How do we measure growth and success when there are no clear goals and the pathway forward is murky and seemingly endless? When does time feel oppressive? How do we tap into flow again?
As the pandemic continues to press on here in New York City and throughout the world, we recognize that this month marks one year since our lives were drastically changed. Some of you may have lost your jobs and you may be thinking about the many months since your last day with your co-workers. Or maybe you're counting down the days until you will be able to gather with your friends or family now that you have received the vaccine. Many of us also know the strange sadness that an anniversary of the death of a loved one brings. Sometimes we don't know what to do with that marker of time, but we feel it deep in our bodies.
I can still remember viscerally what I felt in the first week of my studio being shutdown last March. I sat at this table I'm sitting at right now, but with panic about the unknown. I remember feeling scared when my husband had to go back to work. Would he and I be able to stay safe? What would I do all day at home by myself? How do I even set up a Zoom meeting?
I've also experienced a sense of timelessness at points over this last year--having lost the traditional markers of holidays, busy seasons, vacations, birthday celebrations, and even deadlines. Still, the ever-changing seasons help us to witness the passage of time while sparking memory and longing, attunement, closure, and rebirth.
So, as we say goodbye to these last couple weeks of winter, I am enthusiastically welcoming Spring and the new life it brings--for growth and change, hope and imagination.