A Nebulous Season

I've been using the word "nebulous" a lot. It is really the only one that seems to encompass how I feel about time right now. There is so much floating around me, and very little I can hang onto.

Throughout my senior year of college, I was constantly trying to savor the moment. Even before the pandemic, I knew my last year of college would have so many "lasts," and I wanted the chance to soak up each one. And, I got really good at it. 

I took the long way home every chance I could, walking along the bluff so I could watch the Los Angeles skyline and take a deep breath. I went on a silent retreat, let go of self-doubt in the dance studio, and I could make it through a three hour lecture without looking at my phone.

All that progress was cast aside when everything became virtual. Suddenly, my phone became my lifeline to the world outside my bedroom. The constant Zoom meetings did not help either - I am not an audio learner, and I struggle to pay attention when I cannot fully immerse myself in an experience.

In the past six months, I have become an expert multitasker. It is not something I am really proud of. I am quite ashamed to admit I spend most Zoom meetings with multiple tabs open, switching between online shopping, a tutoring website, and my email inbox. All the while, my phone is at my side, practically begging me to look at the notifications.

I am the furthest thing from present. 

At first, when I reflected on this, I felt really discouraged about what felt like "backward" momentum, a loss of all the progress I made in college. I am continuously reminded that progress is also a nebulous thing and so often non-linear. And, I recognize that it is easier to be present when life feels good. And for most of my senior year on campus, life felt like a dream. It was easy to lean into the moment because I was so darn blessed and so happy to be alive.

Life right now can be really painful. Of course, there are good moments, and I am so grateful for the bits of joy in each day. But it is nearly impossible for me to be present and ride the pandemic wave of emotions without wanting to curl up in bed and sleep. Sometimes, my escapism is a coping mechanism. The world is too complex to take it all on in a single moment. It would be unrealistic for me to expect the same amount of intensity of my former life, when my current one is so different.

Still, I am a dancer because I love that dance captivates my whole attention. In dance, I have found a sense of presence and stillness like none other. I can let go of anything for the sake of pure movement. 

Six plus months of Zoom classes have even challenged that presence I feel in a dance class. It is hard to leave behind the notifications on my phone and the emails on my computer when I am taking class through these virtual mediums. 

All is not lost, however, and I have found a few new ways to reconnect with my pre-pandemic self. Most often, it involves reconnecting with things that bring me joy in the simplest of ways.

• As much as I love taking dance classes, I have grown tired of learning choreography via Zoom. Right now, I find the most joy in improvisation, in solo dance parties, in putting on my favorite music and lying on the floor to listen to it. I have taken some easy ballet classes that bring me so much peace - the codified and structured movement of ballet is a welcome relief in this erratic time. 
• Along the lines of movement, I have been teaching yoga to my family on Sunday mornings, in addition to my weekly classes. I practice teach any class I teach out in the world to my parents, and I love that they are just happy to move with me. Sometimes, it is most difficult for me to be present while I teach, but it is nice to just enjoy doing yoga with people who love me. 
• For a while, I was reading some serious theory, spurred in part by my own desire to educate myself on the matter of racial injustice and also because I was just leaving four years of highly academic content. I love a thick textbook, but I have also grown to love the joy of an easy, but good, book. Since I am back at home, I am also taking the chance to reread (sometimes just parts of) my childhood favorite books.
• My mom and I go for the same walk pretty much every day. There is something lovely about not having to think about where I am walking, which gives me the freedom to notice things - like a dog chasing a squirrel, a beautiful sunset, or the neighborhood cat.
• I noticed I couldn't even make it through a TV show without also looking at my phone. Recently, I have started rewatching some of my favorite cartoons (Avatar the Last Airbender is on Netflix, and I have a free trial). There is something lovely about knowing how the plot is going to end, but still being able to listen to the dialogue anew.

I hope that I will replace my digital calendar with all its Zoom links for a paper one again. I hope that I will try samples at an ice cream shop. I hope that I will spend hours in a coffeeshop with my friends and not wear a mask.

But for now, I'm just taking it one moment at a time.

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If you are interested in finding a few moments to be present (or trying to), I teach yoga online on Tuesdays at 9am PST/12pm EST. You can register here. And, if you register prior to the class, you have 24 hours to take it - in case you can't make the exact time or want to retake the class later/the next morning. 

There's also an unlimited class pass for the month of September that goes on sale on Tuesday, 9/8. If you want to take more than just my class per week, please consider supporting my friends by purchasing the pass and taking their classes as well!