In honor of a student who is the real teacher
On the very last day of the September Challenge, Saturday September 30th, one of our dearest students was in a car crash. This accident occurred while she was on her way to the studio. As one of the most dedicated practitioners, she participated in the September Challenge without need of reward. It had been years that her practice pace had been steady and daily.
After a few texts back and forth, I found out she was in the hospital with a fractured sternum and many cracked ribs. After the dust settled from her admittance, I was finally able to speak to her on the phone.
“Oh friend… how are you?”
“Krista, I’m ok, you know, I’m doing just fine. There were a few guys on their way quickly and they turned on a red light… but they did their best to help and pulled me out of the car. They were so very kind.” I was not surprised that even while in pain, she had genuine compassion and forgiveness for those involved.
We have continued to stay in touch and she has yet to return to the studio. I know it won't be long until her return because today she claimed “I miss you all, the community, and the friendships that come with practicing together.”
I’m choosing to share this story with you all because of what I have learned through our conversations. We all experience moments when our practice is forced to change shape. Our lives have waves of contraction and expansion and these waves are within our own energetic systems as well as our relationships to one another. For those who expanded their practice during September, I pose a question, “What has happened to your practice since then?”
It is true that our studio finds resilience when students show up. But I want this writing to acknowledge that showing up can be in many different ways, expanded or contracted. Some days, weeks, or even months we may crave the heat of a challenge. And other days, weeks, or even months we may need the necessary softness of rest and recovery.
It has been just over 7 months since my last post. At that time, I had to speak to the public about the closure of our hopeful location on Williams. In response, the shape of my practice as the studio’s steward had to change. I gave myself permission to withdraw from social outreach. I shifted, prioritizing the homeostasis of our physical practice space and staff. And today, as I write shifting from contracted back to expanded, I’m very present with the lessons I’m learning from this student's wisdom.
She is withdrawing and contracting as a path of necessary healing. Her practice has changed from functional flows to deep breathing, short walks, and admiring the mountains while reading long books. And as she does this, she is fully present and in the moment. She has taught me in her patience and bravery what emotional resilience and physical autonomy look like in real life. She has taught me how to accept and recognize the importance of these phases even while we are experiencing pain.
Through the groggy whispers of medication, she is proud of her physical connection and capabilities in this moment of tribulation. She joyfully shares her wins “You wouldn't believe it but I have the best breath capacity on this entire floor, and my balance is right on track.”
And when we connect on the phone, she often graciously thanks our staff for our service. And each and every time I attempt to redirect the credit where it is deserved…
“It isn't’ us', it is you! You are the one who keeps showing up. Good days or bad. This is why I keep showing up, I keep showing up for you. You are my motivation.”
Through the teachings of every conversation I have with her, I realized that this student is a living demonstration of our studio's mission and vision. A woman who has experienced surgeries, disease and trauma yet she shows up for the practice each and every day in all the forms it takes. She has pain on some days and freedom on others. She is not here for reward and external stimulus, she lives and breathes the practice profoundly. And she gives back with compassion and clarity by being with society in kindness and care.
And as she recovers, even when each and every breath has a bit of pain that comes along with it, she still breathes. She still practices. She still shows up.
