Redefining Community During the COVID Era: A Yoga Studio Caregiver’s Personal Reflections
One of the definitions of community offered by the Merriam-Webster dictionary is: “a unified body of individuals: such as the people with common interests living in a particular area.”
I opened a yoga studio more than 15 years ago to cultivate a sanctuary in which the practice of yoga could be shared with reverence, accessibility, and integrity for the community in my region. I didn’t think about how was I going to offer yoga classes, private sessions, or education to the people in California. My sole interest was Northern Virginia, because this is where I live. I felt I could only work to cultivate the community I was physically a part of. I no longer believe this to be true, as the COVID-19 pandemic has transformed the way I define community.
I am aware that, overall, our collective definitions of community have changed dramatically during the COVID era, which began in March 2020 in the United States and has continued into the present moment. Along with the changes many of us have experienced, both personally and professionally, the COVID era has had a number of psychological and sociocultural impacts. These include:
● A complete change of daily habits dictated by state and federal regulations around work, school, and daily activity, such as social distancing and mask mandates
● Greater awareness around the presence of racism and white privilege
● An increase in political polarization and the number of media outlets covering spurious narratives
● A transformation of entire industries and professions, with a focus on remote work (a phenomenon that extends to yoga studios)
I can say that I am continuing to discover the opportunities that have opened up in the world of yoga. Yoga is focused on supporting optimal well-being by offering tools for people to experience ease, peace, and support, and to manage stress. What better time than a global pandemic to apply such tools?
Early last spring, in observation of the imperative to flatten the curve, it became clear that my own yoga community would not be able to gather in person, at least not for a while; thus, we made our transition to a completely online format. As a yoga professional who had never before offered virtual training or teaching (and honestly, who had never even thought about doing so), I was propelled into new waters. It wasn’t just I who was plunged into these waters; there were now roughly 50 yoga teachers and yoga therapists on the same journey. Some chose to step away from teaching, and others chose to step up into teaching online. The learning curve was sharp; within three months, not only had our studio shifted—the entire yoga industry had, too.
A September 2020 article from the New York Times notes: “According to Mindbody, a booking software company for the wellness industry, its active users quickly embraced online yoga…last year, one in five users said they had taken streamed or prerecorded classes, but by this June (2020), more than four of five said they were doing so.”
Given that so many of us are now making the shift from in-person to online spaces—partaking in healing modalities that range from yoga to meditation to therapy—the question of how we can build meaningful community online is especially pertinent. I belong to a group of studio owners in the greater metropolitan area of Washington, D.C. During the start of the pandemic, we would meet in order to answer the question of how we could help to cultivate community in this difficult and unfamiliar moment. Within our own group, over the next months, we saw all the different ways studios were navigating the pandemic; some closed, while others adapted. A few didn’t want to make the transition online, and those of us who did recognized that we needed to invest time, money, and energy into this brave new world we were entering. We shared resources, such as grants and other funds, that would support us all. Some of the unexpected investments included cameras, lights, computers, microphones, and other fees associated with hosting large groups of people online. My bookkeeper even created a new budget line item to address the unique expenses of the COVID era.
Many questions arose as I considered the best ways to provide services to my own yoga community.
● Should all the teachers offer their teachings from the studio, even in an online format?
● Should students’ cameras be on or off?
● Should the teacher try to observe everyone who shows up?
● Should the teacher remain on the mat and offer a demo?
● Should the teacher record the class so it can be sent to practitioners?
● Should all students be live, or can some opt to sign up for the class and get the recording?
● If we create a recording, should we charge practitioners or provide it for free?
● Should we offer our classes free of charge?
● Should we develop an on-demand library for students who can’t come to live classes?
● Should we offer a different cost for online classes compared to in-person ones?
● How do we foster a solid community using this new online platform?
As you can imagine, there were lots more questions where these came from. As a studio, we decided we would utilize the time at the beginning and end of class to create a sense of togetherness. Everyone is invited to turn their cameras on at the beginning and end of class to say hello and engage in conversation. During the class, they are welcome to turn their cameras off if they wish. We often open class with a conversation and an invitation to explore a bhavana (intention) for the practice.
At the beginning of COVID, we were especially concerned about the isolation and loneliness that we knew were being experienced in epidemic proportions. We created a class called “Sadhana for All,” a 30-minute $5 session to connect, breathe, and meditate. After a few months, as people found their new rhythms, we transitioned out of this offering. We now primarily offer hour-long classes—and while we have come back to in-person teaching, we have retained our online presence. We also launched an on-demand platform.
In the midst of all these changes, we have retained 40% of our gross profits and have lost a number of practitioners. In fact, we ended 2020 in the red.
I write this in the midst of a ten-month negotiation journey with my landlord. I am faced with the questions: What do I do if I lose my physical space? Is not having a physical space for community to gather a true loss?
To the latter question, I respond, “Yes. It is a true loss.” This is not to say there is no gain, as many creative doors have opened in this process of navigating the pandemic. However, the pain of losing our sanctuaries in which to share, meditate, and gather in community is very real. I know that yoga spaces are vital for connection. I believe they can be built to great effect online, because I’ve seen it happen. But nothing quite matches the immediacy and opportunity that are offered by an in-person community. In a survey we conducted in March 2021, out of the 150 responses, 60% stated that a yoga studio needs a physical space to create community. I believe this has to do with the power of presence. The Polyvagal theory provides the science to support why presence is important. In 1994, Dr. Stephen Porges introduced the polyvagal theory (PVT) to the world. Along with the expansive lens on the mammalian nervous system that PVT offers, Dr. Porges introduced two significant ideas, neuroception and social engagement. These two ideas are behind the power of community and why we need physical presence.
Dr. Porges shares in an overview of the PVT, “The nervous system, through the processing of sensory information from the environment and from the viscera, continuously evaluates risk. Since the neural evaluation of risk does not require conscious awareness and may involve subcortical limbic structures,21 the term neuroception22 was introduced to emphasize a neural process, distinct from perception, that is capable of distinguishing environmental (and visceral) features that are safe, dangerous, or life-threatening. In safe environments, autonomic state is adaptively regulated to dampen sympathetic activation and to protect the oxygen-dependent central nervous system, especially the cortex, from the metabolically conservative reactions of the dorsal vagal complex.” (Porges, 2011)
I believe our sense of community depends on our sense of safety. If we are always in our homes as we connect to others, can we be affecting our sense of neuroception in rooms with people? Haven’t you noticed how you feel when you are in a crowded room now, or when someone is standing close to you and the idea of “physical distancing” is not maintained? Our sense of safety is dependent on our ability to connect to our community, to be socially and safely engaged.
In the recent survey mentioned above, we asked 150 students when attending an online class, what is important for you to feel engaged and connected to your group? 82% of the students shared when the teacher takes time to connect at the beginning of class and 70% shared when the teacher takes time to connect at the end of class. Normally, at the beginning and end of class, students turn on their cameras to say hello or good-bye and share in conversation. This is where we are socially engaged.
Dr. Porges highlights how our social engagement system plays a vital role in healing and regulating our nervous system. There are many aspects to the social engagement system and they mainly focus on vocal tone, facial expression, eyes and the face-heart connection ( an energetic reading of presence). Being online has been so helpful to see people and not see masks. I think about having a physical studio where people are masked when practicing for years to come, will this work? My gut says no. The ideas that PVT offers around neuroception and the importance of our social engagement system provide insight to why it is important to come back to being in the physical presence of one another, unmasked when possible. These ideas contribute to our experience of visceral homeostasis, which is a felt sense of balance. Can this be cultivated when we are not in the physical presence of one another? This is a question many of us as yoga therapists, yoga teachers, somatic bodyworkers, psychotherapists and others in similar fields are asking ourselves.
George Floyd mural; photo by Singlespeedfahrer
As if the pandemic didn’t create enough of a transformation in our professional and personal landscapes, the racial justice uprisings in the wake of George Floyd’s murder by a police officer brought many painful truths to the surface. “I can’t breathe,” Floyd’s poignant final words, was eerily appropriate in light of the fact that they’d been uttered during a viral outbreak that directly impacts the respiratory system. As a yoga teacher and studio caregiver, I offer the teaching that if you are in an asana, or yoga posture, and you find yourself unable to breathe, it’s crucial to back off and find a position that enables greater ease with your breath. This made Floyd’s last utterance especially heart-wrenching, as he had not been given such an option.
This traumatic event shocked the world and shattered the silence of many BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, and People of Color) communities who had intimately known the kind of tragic violence that ended Floyd’s life. It was clear that it was time to listen.
My studio responded to this world-altering moment by posting the affirmation that Black Lives Matter on our social media platforms. Sadly, we received pushback from our own community, from those who didn’t believe it was a yoga studio’s place to put forth a “political” position. The political landscape in the United States and much of the world had become increasingly divisive, and many believed that taking any kind of stand would simply further the disunity that had made itself so apparent.
In this time, we also had a series of situations emerge in our yoga sanctuary that required us to call out injustice in our midst as we faced the revelation of misconduct between teacher and student. Unfortunately, this too received a backlash in our community.
All of this compelled me to turn inward to my own inner guru and to my spiritual teachers, A.G. and Indra Mohan. I leaned into the teachings of the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali—particularly the famous sutra that is often so misunderstood, Sutra 1.33:
maitri karuna mudita upekshanam sukha duhka punya apunya vishayanam bhavanatah chitta prasadanam
In relationships, the mind becomes purified by cultivating feelings of friendliness towards those who are happy, compassion for those who are suffering, goodwill towards those who are pious, and the skill to not lose your calm center towards the impious.
The last few words offer guidance for how to deal with injustice. I have translated it as “skill to not lose your calm center towards the impious.” This part of the sutra is often misunderstood due to early translations, such as that of Swami Satchidananda: “disregard toward the wicked.”
The sutra’s invitation as I see it is to keep your calm and respond to that which is not in alignment and that creates harm. A.G. Mohan shares, “This is one of the clearest invitations that the path of a yogi is to not be neutral or judgmental, but to be discriminative and clear.”
The activism that George Floyd’s words ignited invited many of us to look inside, look at our own complicity, and be willing to hear the voices that have been continuously repressed and silenced. This aspect of the COVID era invited me to ask clearer questions of myself—as a human being, yoga teacher, and caregiver of my yoga sanctuary and community. I asked myself: Who is not being served by this yoga sanctuary? As a community, do we collectively mirror what we would like to see in our classes?
Such questions inspired me to be even more intentional in creating the kind of community that would challenge the oppressive forces that lie at the heart of our society—forces that too often have gone unchecked and unquestioned, especially due to the misconception that the work of spiritual practitioners should not actively engage the social issues of our time.
For years at our yoga sanctuary, we have honed the art of communication. We’ve done our best to create safer spaces and to offer inclusive language that acknowledges diversity and offers choice. In our school, we offer a trauma-informed lens for our teacher trainings and certifications to acknowledge the pain that continues to live in our bodies and psyches. However, despite all our endeavors, it’s important to recognize that none of this work is about reaching some kind of goal. This journey of cultivating community and awareness is an ongoing process.
The COVID era has also shed light on the importance of using our discernment to recognize both truth and untruth in our world. Perhaps one of the most bizarre and disturbing aspects of the political polarization that has occurred in the yoga and wellness communities is the QAnon phenomenon, which continues to gain traction in the COVID era. QAnon is the “big tent” conspiracy theory that falsely claims, among other outrageous allegations, that former President Trump is attempting to bring down an evil cabal of Democratic pedophiles.
In an article published in February 2021 on the BBC’s website, Joshua Cheetham shares:
Broad, spiritual language used by some influencers also makes it difficult for social media platforms like Twitter and Facebook to detect content. “Believers in conspiracy theories are a minority in the yoga and wellness world, but this active minority can drive its followers to radicalisation,” says Cecile Guerin, a researcher at the Institute of Strategic Dialogue. A study by the Centre for Countering Digital Hate (CCDH) found that influencers with “anti-vax views”—including those within the yoga community—have gained nearly eight million followers since 2019. In all, 31 million people follow anti-vaccine groups on Facebook, and another 17 million subscribe to similar accounts on YouTube. The CCDH estimates that the movement is worth $1 billion in advertising revenue for social media firms.
A popular hashtag among QAnon followers is #greatawakening. Awakening is part of any path that speaks to enlightenment, freedom from suffering, truth, and oneness. It is easy to understand how people in enlightenment-driven paths, whether fundamentalist Christians or yoga practitioners, can be attracted to the QAnon rhetoric, which passionately speaks to the urgent need to save our children, the world, and humanity in such a way that it has managed to exploit our deepest concerns to generate a zealous following.
In general, the COVID era has exposed the fractures in our delicate mental and physical health, as well as our ability to find coherence and community in an increasingly alienating time.
As we potentially arrive at a post-COVID era, we continue to wrestle with the questions and conundrums that have been sparked in this period:
● How do I want to live my life?
● Am I privileged?
● Is there racial inequality? And if so, what can I do about it?
● What is truth?
What role do yoga, the existence of physical yoga sanctuaries, and community all play in answering these questions? In my opinion, their primary value lies in providing a space for meaningful contemplation by resting in the unifying principles of respect, nonviolence, diversity, and compassion that extends to oneself and one’s community—so that we can cultivate “skill to not lose your calm center towards the impious.”
I am not in a position to define what is impious at this point. However, spaces that offer meditation as the path of “awakening” often offer tools for developing a calm breath, body, and mind, all of which we require before tackling that question. I believe this is the central mission of yoga and our yoga spaces (virtually and in-person): to support the breath, body, and mind to cultivate peace among individuals in such a way that positively impacts their participation in the community.
Yoga is a path, process and philosophy that has for thousands of years focused on offering tools and perspectives for individuals to lessen suffering (dukkha) and invite more ease (sukha). Have you tried to do this by yourself? This is why community has always been needed. We hold space for one another by offering compassion and inviting dialogue and introspection. Physical presence is essential, as 80% of our communication is offered non-verbal, energy is a felt experience (Mehrabian, 1967).
I call upon sacred space facilitators to be advocates for physical sanctuaries. As we move through the Covid-Era into the Post-Covid-Era, we will need our physical spaces for our sense of community more than ever.
References
Porges, Stephen W. “The polyvagal theory: new insights into adaptive reactions of the autonomic nervous system.” Cleveland Clinic journal of medicine vol. 76 Suppl 2,Suppl 2 (2009): S86-90. doi:10.3949/ccjm.76.s2.17
Mehrabian, A., & Ferris, S. R. (1967). Inference of attitudes from nonverbal communication in two channels. Journal of Consulting Psychology, 31(3), 248–252. https://doi.org/10.1037/h0024648
Mehrabian, A. (1972). Nonverbal Communication. New Brunsick: Aldine Transaction