I have been in quite the funk recently. I don’t really have any motivation to write. To read. To cook myself dinner. To take care of myself. It’s all just work, skiing, and teaching. Skiing is my outlet, where my mind and body feel the most comfortable, a time where I can breathe fresh air and let my skis and body take me anywhere I want to go. Yoga is that same way for me, except when winter comes my top priority is skiing, and between mornings of skiing and afternoons of working, I pretty much come home and go to bed. Friday nights have become my night to nourish my body and spirit, I have a teaching spot at 4:30pm at Your Yoga and then the 6:30 class that follows mine is an hour and a half of chanting, asana, pranayama and meditation, and a nice long savasana. By the time I get home around 8:30, I’m a blissed out puddle and melt into bed. And it’s wonderful. Friday evenings are the best 4 hours of my week, and I’ve slowly come to realize that there is no reason why every hour of my week shouldn’t feel like that.
After this Friday’s class, some fellow teachers and the owner of the studio asked me if I was going to Helena the following day for the Women’s March. I said no, I had made plans to go skate skiing with a new friend and didn’t want to bail on her. I figured being in the meowtains was good enough. When I got home that night I warmed up some leftovers and had the house to myself. As I sat and munched my wilted chard, this sense of urgency came over me. If I didn’t go to this march, what was that going to say about where I stand as a woman in this country? And no, not going to the march doesn’t make you a bad person. I wasn’t afraid of what people would think of me. I just realized that there was no reason not to go. No reason not to march for equality, for what I believe is right. So I panic-texted a few women I knew were going to Helena at 9:30pm, hoping they had an open seat in their car. Nicole’s did, and 12 hours later we were five in a car, listening to the CNN reports of the march in Washington. Of the four other girls, I only knew Nicole, but by the end of the day we were reliving the day around beer and fries, talking not only about women’s rights but human rights. Talking about as females, bringing each other up instead of pushing each other down. It was amazingly refreshing to share the same ideas with others, and although we were strangers that morning I felt a strong sense of sisterhood the moment we were all packed in the car. I also couldn’t help but look around the capitol lawn on Saturday at all the different signs and the humans holding them. They were old, young, male, female, black, white, latino, asian, students, teachers, government workers, but most of all, they were HUMAN. I can’t stress this fact
enough that we are all human. One species. And through it all, we can’t forget to stay human. No one is better than anyone else. These economic ladders and social classes are put in place by humans just like you and me who forget that we are all one and there’s no room to put others down because they have different beliefs, different incomes, different skin colours, or different religious ideas. Every one of us has a story and unless that individual has shared their story with you that day you have no idea what they’re going through or what they’ve been through. And this works both ways. Your story is just as important as their’s and at the end of the day we need to start being nice to one another. Respecting one another. Loving one another. Connecting with one another and remembering to stay connected.
The amount of chatter about the march today at work between staff and customers warmed my heart. So many of my co-workers had gone and I heard one say that was the happiest day he had had since the election. People were just happy today. I was happy. I am happy.