A year ago, when I signed the lease for my “Zoom Dojo” I didn’t have a sense of how long I might be streaming classes from this 300 square foot studio. I only knew I was on a mission: to keep us in our bodies, and this was the best environment I could create to stay focused on my purpose. When the vaccines rolled out a few months later, we were all so relieved. At the same time, the deep sense of focus with no other distraction but to stay present and alive would have to change as we all ventured back out into a larger world.
The late winter and spring log-ons told stories of family reunions, dinner with friends and travel. It was delightful! By April when I finished my own course of Moderna hope, I began to think about in-person classes again. A month later I made the leap and signed a short-term lease for the summer term. That first in-person class this past July was strange! It was the same studio we rented before the pandemic and I think for many of us, to be back in the ‘before’ place brushed us up against feeling all that had happened since we last stood on this floor. At the same time, it was effervescent. Maskless smiles beamed. We shimmered with sharing our flows together after being singular in them for so long. We were so happy to see everyone, and I was proud to see in 3-d flesh and bone how people’s forms and their presence in their bodies shined. Mission accomplished!
Within three weeks however we all intuitively started wearing our masks to classes. Stories of travel and family and friends still populated our conversations, but so did reports of break-through infections. Surrounded by the delta variant, the politics of not caring for others, heat, smoke and world events, our effervescence began to dull. I personally found myself in an unexpected netherworld, attempting to re-ignite my optimism and sense of mission, but being too exhausted to do so. For the first time since March of 2020, I had to admit to myself how hard this has all been, and continues to be.
A few weeks ago, instead of starting our Friday classes with the usual Standing Meditation & warmups I asked the students to have a seat and take themselves off mute. How are you?, I inquired. Students quickly opened-up about their own fatigue and grief. Sure, the conversations were mixed with the joy of having seen family, a sense of pragmatic relief that their life is more open, but everyone also expressed a realistic frankness about the wobbly times ahead.
As I write I recognize how vulnerable I feel about our world right now. I didn’t want to write about this, of feeling tired & full of ambiguity, I wanted to write about Dahlias. I wanted to tell you how much my patch of 80 means to me. It’s the most I’ve ever grown. It’s the most intentional I’ve ever been in growing them. One might say I was on a mission.
Dahlias were originally food for the Aztecs, but once the Spanish saw how beautiful their flowers were they never were food again. Now, there are over 64,000 cultivars, not even close to that many have names and classifications. They come from tubers, cuttings and seeds. Their colors are reds, whites, purples, yellows, pinks, lavenders, dual tones, triple tones and more. Their shapes are cactus, semi-cactus, decorative, lancinated, anemone, ball, waterlily, pom pon and more. Their sizes are tiny, medium, large, giant and more. Like we humans, they are all from the same genetic origin story. If you fall for this flower, you fall hard.
From June until the first frost my home is filled with Dahlias They are a wild ride to keep up with and anyone who has more than a few plants fills their vases daily and gives bouquets away faster than they can cut them. “Don’t you hate cutting them?” I’m often asked. No, not at all. Because when they are cut, they push out even more flowers - almost overnight. And when the single tuber that engendered such summer insanity is harvested in late fall for winter storage, it has now multiplied into five or more tubers, each with the embedded message to bloom anew after just a few months of rest. It’s quite the magic show.
Dahlias are a practice, just like Tai Chi & Qigong. Cultivating them both teaches me about life and fills that life with beauty and purpose. This year more than ever each one’s presence in my life has given me a place to put myself when I am overwhelmed and exhausted and unsure about the times ahead. The mission has become more personal. Water the roots, raise and lower my arms.
So here we are, back to navigating such an unsure place. Like teaching from my Zoom Dojo one year later, I’m not sure any of us thought we’d still be here. And so, How are you? As for me, from day to day, I’m never quite sure. But what I do know is I know I have a garden full of Dahlias. I have a Tai Chi & Qigong practice.
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To Moon students, thank you all for an “interesting” session! 🤣 Truly, the hybrid experiment had it’s bumps but I think we found our flow. I’m looking forward to our break and to see you back starting Sept. 26th. Keep practicing!
Photo is of Dahlia “La Luna” (Informal Decorative, Giant, Yellow: IDAAY)