Summary

A yoga and meditation teacher reflects on the transformative power of their practice during global crises, emphasizing the importance of these tools in coping with the current Coronavirus pandemic.

Abstract

The author, a yoga and meditation teacher, recounts how their practice became a vocation after the 9/11 attacks, providing a sense of purpose amidst feelings of helplessness. Nearly two decades later, facing the COVID-19 pandemic, they find their practice serving as "emotional triage," helping them and their students navigate overwhelming emotions. Despite the challenges of transitioning to online teaching and personal financial insecurity, the teacher remains committed to sharing the benefits of yoga and meditation, which have been affirmed by student testimonials. The article underscores the teacher's resilience, adaptability, and the profound impact of their work on both themselves and their community during times of crisis.

Opinions

The author believes that yoga and meditation are effective tools for managing personal anxiety and fostering resilience during the pandemic.
They acknowledge the collective fear, grief, and discomfort of the current moment and see their role as providing clarity and courage to their students.
The teacher values the sense of community and support that has emerged from the shared experience of the pandemic, both within their classes and through their own therapy sessions.
Despite the uncertainty of the future, the author is determined to continue their work, adapting to the online space and trusting in the practices that have guided them since their decision to teach yoga after 9/11.
The author questions the sustainability of their profession in a post-pandemic world but finds resolve in the positive feedback from students, reinforcing their belief in the value of their teachings.

Can Yoga Actually Help During This Global Crisis?

After 9/11, becoming a yoga and meditation teacher was the answer to my helplessness. But now what do I do?

There was a global crisis nineteen years ago, that rocked all our foundations, and put me on my current path.

On September 11, 2001, I was living far from home. I felt as helpless as anyone else whose dad worked near Wall Street and couldn’t be found for several hours.

After the initial attack, my feelings of despair persisted. I knew I had to do something with my life to try to relieve some of the suffering I felt within, and in the world.

I had never envisioned myself as a yoga teacher, but it didn’t feel as if I had a choice. My practice was the answer to my helplessness. It felt as if I were being dragged to take the first step, and then the next. My training as a yoga and meditation teacher began.

For almost 20 years, I’ve shared the tools that help me find joy, healing and calm in the face of self-doubt, pain and anxiety.

During the Coronavirus pandemic, my practice has taken on the role of emotional triage.

I use breath as the first line of defense when faced with overwhelming feelings. Meditation has taught me to tolerate discomfort. This is a collective moment of fear, grief and discomfort. As I learn to tolerate just a little bit more, my resilience grows and I can show up for others with more clarity and courage. My students, family and community benefit when I can find my center.

I show up on zoom to share what has kept me emotionally balanced these many years, and especially these past 4 months. They say it is helping!

As a yoga teacher, I pieced a living together by travelling from gyms to studios to homes. Of course, I cannot do that now. Without the privilege of marriage giving me health insurance, my position would be even more precarious than it is. I am, by nature, risk-averse. I was careful to never put all my eggs in one basket and to take jobs which may have paid less but felt more secure.

They all laid me off on the same day, March 16. One employer with a week’s pay, another with none. Those who worked for studios fared worse. At one social justice focused studio where I am an occasional teacher, a request went out: if you have the privilege to donate or pause your pay, please don’t invoice us this month.

I thought to myself, “If I am scared, I wonder how some of my students are feeling. I must find a way to be there for them.”

Of course, I was also thinking of my family, home all together indefinitely, and the looming virus we had not quite witnessed yet.

We were safe, but we didn’t feel safe.

A bounty of free and sliding scale yoga classes blossomed online overnight. All the yoga teachers, our studios suddenly shut down, or laid off from our gigs at gyms, scrambled to boot up zoom. Behind the scenes, there was a flurry of activity. Those more familiar with teaching online stepped up to show the rest of us how.

My first few classes were a hot mess.

I didn’t have the right tech. I didn’t know how to mute anyone. My internet was as unstable as my mind. My son ran through shouting during deep relaxation. Some students didn’t return.

To those who did, and continue to, I’m grateful. We have seen each other through something unfathomable, and I know none of us will forget.

There was no way to hide my anxiety those first few weeks, and I didn’t want to. I was anxious and triggered, and it’s ok for my students to know that. Showing up in my vulnerability allowed my students to let their guard down and work through their own challenging feelings during class. When one of my students logged on after her colleague had died, we grieved together. There have also been births and other joyful celebrations.

Throughout, I do my best to remain consistent, supportive and present, just as I had in person.

A few weeks into lockdown, a ritual began. Whenever I heard an ambulance begin its trip down the parkway outside my window, I would stop everything to focus on the people inside. This happened countless times a day. Everything stopped for me as I sent loving-kindness to them on each exhale. Breathing in, I derived courage and hope from both the sick people and their helpers. I would pause even during class until the sound had faded.

My students understood and expressed gratitude for the Ambulance Meditation practice that I shared with them. They see that I am vulnerable too, in my helplessness and empathy.

While maintaining faith in the tools of yoga and meditation, I have not relied solely on that. The support of a therapist, also on zoom, has been essential for me at this time.

I know that the inevitable anxiety, grief, lethargy, rage and isolation arising from living through this pandemic (and its resulting financial and emotional devastation) can be soothed with yoga and meditation. I know this not just from my own experience, but from the benefits reported by students who have integrated mindfulness and breathing exercises into their lives.

I decided to begin my yoga teaching career in the wake of a previous global crisis because I wanted to be part of the solution to the world’s suffering.

I don’t know what’s next for me, or my fellow yoga teachers. I don’t see my job ever returning to a pre-pandemic “normal,” so I’ll keep learning more about how to hold space online. I know I won’t give up. Still, I find myself wondering, does it actually help? A student shared this, which solidified my resolve:

“I felt seen and heard by Kate as she guided us… I went very deep with processing some of my emotions around quarantining and Covid-19. The compassion meditations helped me not feel so angry and anxious about the state of our country and its response to Covid-19.” -Corrina M.

With my courage bolstered by the community, I keep going.

Going forward into the unknown, I’ll keep using my tools to tolerate discomfort and build resilience. Then, I’ll teach from that experience. If there is a way I can continue to share what has helped me through past and current crises, I will. Despite the tech challenges, which I was not prepared for, it is almost as if I have been training for this very moment, ever since that decision to become a yoga and meditation teacher all those years ago.