I can’t say I’ve ever written an email to you guys with puddles of tears in my eyes, but here I am. Guess there’s a first for everything.
I want more than anything to tell you this in person.
In light of the financial pressures of COVID-19, I’ve made the decision to permanently close our Kalispell and Columbia Falls Yoga Hive locations. Moving forward, the Whitefish studio will be our Montana flagship, we'll have our one location in Wisconsin, and Arctic Hive will hold strong as a destination for upcoming yoga + adventure retreats in the Brooks Range.
Wednesday night (the night I wrote this, just 24 hours after coming to this decision), I stood at my kitchen sink after a long day of phone calls, list making, and number crunching. I hadn’t cried yet, and I kept thinking to myself that it hadn’t hit me.
I was staring at a sink filled with dishes. I put on music, I started cleaning, and I felt off… slightly nauseous. Wasn’t hungry, wasn’t sick. Just felt weird. And as I washed, and scrubbed, and rinsed, I felt my heart welling up with emotion at the symbolism.
Cleaning up a beautiful mess.
In my mind, I imagined your faces as you stared at your screen in disbelief, as you read this email. Thinking to yourself: NO. WAY. My yoga home is gone. THIS VIRUS SUCKS. This can’t be happening.
The tears started falling. Maybe yours are too. My cry was not a pity party. Not by a long shot. This was a good, hearty cry that went on for a few hours, on and off, as I energetically honored, and released the incredible 4 and 3 years (respectively) we’ve shared together in collectively four different studio spaces between Cfalls and Kalispell. The movement we’ve made. The groups we’ve cried in. The beautiful yellow and blue walls that sheltered us from the wild outside. Over 75 teachers who’ve come, some gone, and served as leaders of thousands of yogis from near and far. The hundreds of cups of tea, kombucha, and Coffee Traders coffee we’ve collectively shared will never be forgotten.
And please don’t be sorry.
I believe we should save it for when we absolutely mean it. When we’ve screwed up. When we’ve inflicted suffering on someone else, and we see our wrong.
No one here has screwed up. For me, tears are the way I release emotion. There's no other way to get it out! It’s exhausting — and requires a million kleenexes — but at the end, I always feel better because I’ve let it go.
You see, none of us are exempt from pain. And right now, I share your pain. I feel this pain — and if I’ve learned anything through the tender moments I’ve spent with so many of you within Yoga Hive walls:
Our pain has led each of us to our own version of transformation. It’s a required prerequisite to transformation.
We might not see it right away, but the more times we realize the pain happens FOR us, the more times we learn to expect it… and to know there’s light coming.
Pain is inevitable. Change is inevitable. But transformation it’s an optional step that only comes to us when we let go of expectations. When we let go of attachment to “what was,” in order to make space for something new.
By being sorry for pain like this (which I will say is distinctly different than chronic suffering), it’s like being sorry for the journey. Being sorry for the uncomfortable. Being sorry for the times in our lives that make us who we are. And truth is? I’m not sorry for any of this. I’ve done my best with the resources I have. You’ve done your best with yours. We shared millions of incredible moments together. We’re all destined for greatness as we open up space for something new on a collective level.
Before I wrote this email, I scrolled Facebook for a minute and read that the summer camp I grew up working at won’t be holding camp this summer. (The instigator of the second wave of tears as I started to write this email). The feeling of camp ending for the summer is one I know intimately. But the feeling of summer camp ending for a long while? That’s a new one.
One that hits home for our Yoga Hive community.
But just like summer camp, your yoga home will someday open again in Whitefish. Your yoga home will still continue with tons of LIVE Zoom classes every week with some of your familiar Yoga Hive faces — tech experience not required! Your yoga home lives within our new baby for on-demand streaming, Yoga Hive Connect.
But most of all, your yoga home will never leave you. Because it doesn’t require a particular teacher. It doesn’t require our distinct yellow and blue walls, essential oils diffusing, or incense burning. If you’ve learned anything from us, I hope it’s this: Your yoga home will never be lost because it’s within you. Sure, all the Yoga Hive touches are nice. And helpful when we’re really needing guidance. But over time, we realize that everything we need is within, and in the same way, Yoga Hive is nothing without Y-O-U.
And so I leave you with my deepest respect and gratitude for all the words you and I will speak/text/email about this — and all the words that will go unspoken.
Thank you for four years, Columbia Falls.
Kalispell, thank you for nearly three and a half.
Whitefish: We’re looking at you for support as we all take a collective deep (DEEP) breath and nourish this yoga home for many years to come.
I personally invite all of you, throughout the valley, to make a trek over to Whitefish (after we open, of course) to join together as one Yoga Hive community in our Flagship space — you'll always have the option to practice with us from the comfort of your home through Zoom as we make online access a permanent offering within the studio. It's an honor to continue to serve you and I'm sure we'll come up with some creative outdoor opportunities to practice together across the valley over the summer. Thank you for making Yoga Hive such an incredible place to work, teach, and grow.
Be on the lookout for an online store featuring props, bundles, merch and more early next week, available for curbside pickup.
In light (and a few final cleansing tears),
PS - If you have questions about an existing membership or punch pass you have on file, please reach out to our manager Brittany at firstname.lastname@example.org. She'll help make it right!
Originally hailing from Wisconsin, Mollie is a cheesehead transplant to Northwest Montana, with degrees in Retail and Journalism from the University of Wisconsin-Madison. Today, she lives off the grid, half the year in a Tiny House & half the year in a yurt — both of which she and her husband, Sean, built by hand. Nonprofit Executive Director by day, Mollie also owns and teaches at Yoga Hive — a chain of community yoga studios in the valley.