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This weekend is the final weekend of yoga teacher training for our Montana-based crew. And as I reflect back on the last few months (and where they went?), I am reminded that everything in life is impermanent. Every yoga teacher training — however magical they all are — eventually comes to an end. (And our 100% online YTT begins June 3rd - click for details!) In the same way, I dropped off our 15-year-old Weimaraner with Sean’s parents this past weekend. Daisy will live out her golden years sunbathing and getting SO much love with our family in warmer climates. Our time with our pets — however magical it is — eventually comes to an end. In the same way, as so many of you know, we made the difficult decision to permanently close our Kalispell and Columbia Falls studios as of May 1st, and carry on in Montana with our flagship location in Whitefish. Every business — however magical it is for however long it lasts — eventually comes to an end. Sensing a trend here? This idea of "impermanence" is a foundational teaching of yoga. Everything that is created will be destroyed. And if we let go of the dramatic semantics of the word “DESTROYED” (e.g. Game of Thrones visualizations) we can see how true this really is. So then the question: Why — when a life, a business, a job, a pet, etc. comes to an end — do we struggle to move on? Because of our attachment to the way things are. Or the way things were. Or the way we think things “should” be. When we dive into yoga as a lifestyle, we learn over and over again that as we detach from outcomes, and detach from our fixed ideas about how things are, we can wake up to this truth… the cycle of life. We can wake up to the ultimate impermanence of literally everything. We find this principle is everywhere in nature. She changes daily, hourly, moment-to-moment. Just as a day in the mountains can bring showers, hail, snow, wind and sunshine (plus clouds, obviously), change is abundant. Weather isn’t permanent. Seasons aren’t permanent. Understanding impermanence is REQUIRED for our sanity as human beings. If we don't realize that everything comes to an end, we get confused when things go away, or when people leave our lives. And when confusion becomes chronic, that's when suffering begins. With the studios closing, I’ve been asked more times than I can count, “How are you feeling about it?” My first instinct is to feed into this idea that I’m devastated and struggling because of course I didn’t want to close two studios. Who wants to do something like that? But then I remember the truth: I know this decision — like all endings — is just a pathway to more freedom for me, and ultimately more freedom for every human being touched by Yoga Hive, and who will be touched by Yoga Hive in the future. And because we can’t QUITE see what that freedom looks like yet from our unique vantage points, this is where trust comes in. Every moment holds a spiritual invitation for us. (And YES. I just said the S-word. Stay with me.) The moment when we close two of three Montana yoga studios, when Daisy moved to a warmer climate, and even yoga teacher training coming to an end… if we forget about the spiritual invitation for us to dive deeper, we get lost in crisis and suffering when we encounter an ending. Every ending becomes a monumental problem until our entire life is filled with them. But if we accept the invite and metaphorically RSVP to the yogic teachings, we start to see how this impermanence is just a fact. It’s coming, and we don’t need to wait for it, or fear it. We welcome it with open arms, we shed our tears and feel our pain in the process, BECAUSE we trust that what’s coming down the road is exactly what we need (even if we can’t imagine it yet!). So hang in there, everyone. And keep practicing! You’ll find us on Zoom for now — but we have plans in the works and are paying close attention to both city, county and state regulations! We will have outdoor classes to start with (weather pending!) soon! Keep following along. In the meantime, some notes for you:
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MollieOriginally 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. Archives
January 2021
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