When I wrote my applications for a sabbatical (spring 2018) and a Fulbright (Fall 18 and Spring 19), I expected to get neither. Instead, I got both. My proposed sabbatical project(s) ended up being very different, in part because I was not quite ready to dive into that particular project. And project directions always change. This is the case for my Fulbright as well.

My proposed Fulbright project resulted from my attempts to imagine this place I had not been and what I might like to learn. It was ultimately not one cohesive project, but reflections on the ways in which my Fulbright experience would complement and extend my work in three general areas: girls’ cultures, fitness cultures, and educational systems. My title: Consciousness and Movement in Girls’ Cultures and Fitness Cultures.

Teaching in a foreign educational system will certainly be a challenge and will, I hope, help me to develop my pedagogies and programs for American studies and interdisciplinary studies. I will also be co-teaching an American studies theory and methods course with one of my Danish colleagues; we started working on the syllabus when I was on sabbatical. Perhaps most exciting, I will also have the opportunity to work with graduate students for the first time, and I am already advising a B.A. student's thesis project about black feminism and Beyoncé’s Lemonade.
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When I had more time to really start doing some pre-Fulbright research about Denmark (again, during my sabbatical), the part of my project surrounding girls’ cultures and fitness cultures evolved into a more specific project that considers the Danish concept and practice of hygge (hoo-gah) and the concept and practice I have taught and studied (and preached and tried to practice) in the U.S.—self-care. I am interested in how Danes understand and practice hygge and how these practices and understandings can help me understand, develop, and extend the concept of self-care. My new working title is: Understanding Self-Care through Hygge (hoo-gah): An Interdisciplinary Exploration of Danish and American Culture.

Hyyge has no one-word translation in English, but is often understood as “cozy.” This simplification stems, at least in part, from the fact that hygge is not just a concept or a style or something you adopt for certain occasions or certain spaces, it is a foundational aspect of Danish culture and identity. In the U.S. and the U.K., we look to the concept of hygge to help explain why the Danes are cited as some of the happiest people in the world as well as to give advice on how to find this concept in, for instance, the design of classroom spaces and having a cozy lifestyle to survive winter. But this is, I think, a shallow understanding of a much deeper concept.

I’m excited to learn more about hygge and Denmark, and I plan to learn many other things along the way… I have already learned so much in just a few days!

As I began to heal from my PCT-hike induced injuries, I began to get a little stir crazy. I began to crave group fitness classes, to need my dance aerobics fix. After a winter of being out of my regular fitness routine (of at least four cardio classes a week in addition to at least six yoga classes on top of my outdoor activities), my fitness level had declined more than I recognized. I needed a boost to get me back on track, back in my body and grounded. Jazzercise was there to save me—even better, with a free seven-day promotional pass.

My decreased level of fitness was one contributing factor to my hiking injuries. After being unable to walk for a week, I vowed to remember what I already know, what I have already learned time and time again—I have to work out every day and need at least four cardio classes a week. The signs were all there (and ignored)—weight gain, lack of energy, increased anxiety and depression, decreased self-confidence, physical pain in every joint and increased chronic pain. Instead of carrying only the 40 or so pounds on my back, I was also carrying an extra 20 on my body and my level of fitness was lacking overall.

If I had not been away from the YMCA classes that I have taught five or more classes a week for the last 8 plus years, the start of my PCT hike might have been a different story. And the biggest key that was missing was dance aerobics. Teaching the Group Groove MOSSA program (now Groove Together at the YMCA) and my own freestyle (old school) Cardio Pump (an interval step, dance, and strength/sculpting class) not only improves cardiovascular health, it also keeps me toned and strong and agile and has a number of mind/body benefits. It makes me happy.

Sharing my love of dance aerobics, and my talents of teaching and choreographing, is part of what I love about dance aerobics. Dancing in my living room, cueing myself in my head and sometimes out loud, is not the same. Finding El Cajon’s Jazzercise studio was exactly what I needed. And, actually, I didn’t really find Jazzercise, I knew it was there. I had driven by on previous visits, surprised to see Jazzercise still alive and, as I recently discovered, it is not alone alive; it is thriving.
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My love of dance aerobics most certainly began by emulating my mother working out to her Jane Fonda Records. And taking Jazzercise classes as a teenager certainly cemented this love. After 20 years of teaching many versions of this classic aerobics format, I only knew that Jazzercise still existed because one of my regulars, Betty, took Jazzercise classes when she would escape the Maine winters in Arizona and because a new participant, Karen, remarked after one of my Cardio Pump classes: “You should teach Jazzercise!” At the time, I scoffed (to myself); I would never teach another program (like Group Groove) where I am handed choreography that I am expected to memorize.

After taking five Jazzercise classes in seven days from four different instructors, I know I already basically teach my own version of Jazzercise and more; but in a different version of my fitness life I might have become a fitness instructor through this program. (But not now; their process does not mesh with my experience.) I could easily see what Betty and Karen loved about Jazzercise.

For Betty, who preferred my Cardio Pump class to all others, Jazzercise was a full body workout, with tracks devoted to strength routines for the upper and lower body as well as an abs track. In one class I took, there was even a good old-fashioned side leg-lift track (an exercise Betty would always do as she waited for class to start). More so, the dance sequences are very reminiscent of classic dance aerobics and are rather simple and easy to follow, especially compared to the Y’s Groove program, which is a very intense cardio workout with many challenging movements and sequences and more complicated choreography. My Cardio Pump class has simpler choreography and weight intervals, which is why Karen made an immediate connection to Jazzercise. The Fusion class I took was a lot like my Cardio Pump class, just without the step.

I imagine the things Betty liked about Jazzercise are also some of the things Karen likes about Jazzercise, particularly the one-hour full-body cardio and strength workout all wrapped up in one class. (Compared to Groove, which is all dance with a stretch track at the end. However, Groove also delivers the strength elements without weights; people just don’t realize these benefits as readily.) I also enjoyed this element of Jazzercise; every time I felt like I had a full, well-rounded workout.

While the choreography was, perhaps, a bit lackluster in places—which may only be because I am used to more changes and nuances—the music was fun and the instructors were engaged with their participants. There was a good balance of moves and different styles of moves and music. For instance, there were some tracks with punches and kicks and some with Latin dance moves, all with the foundation of classic aerobics moves. The combos were simple and repetitive, but did not get boring. The repetition was most likely also responsible for the good form and technique I noticed in most of the participants.

Part of the fun of trying a new fitness program is trying to figure out how the program itself works. (Yes, I am a fitness nerd!) I made my observations and then asked a few pointed questions. Instructors have a lot of freedom in compiling their routines from the music and choreography provided to them five times a year. It was clear that instructors were putting together the songs and routines that were their favorites, which (I think) always makes for a better class. All of the instructors I had were friendly and solid though the experience of two instructors—Susan and Christy—definitely shined through the layers of instruction embedded in the cues for the choreography.

At one point in class, Susan asked us how many of us believe in self-care. After a few whoops in the crowd, she reminded us that we were practicing self-care by being in class that day. She reminded me that while I think about my fitness teaching as a responsibility and as a necessary workout, it is also a part of my self-care routine. I preach self-care, but I failed to recognize that this aspect of my daily life (until my sabbatical!) is also a part of my self-care. Group fitness is so much more than just a workout.

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In addition to the Jazzercise program itself, what I loved about Jazzercise in El Cajon was the studio atmosphere and the instructors. I took my first Jazzercise class in El Cajon more than 20 years ago. Classes were always packed and there was always a friendly atmosphere. That hasn’t changed.  Almost every instructor, including those teaching before or after the class I was there to take, noticed me as a new face and introduced themselves, asked my name, welcomed me, and asked if I had any questions. This is impressive. This is why Jazzercise still exists in El Cajon. This is why their classes are packed.

From the welcoming instructors, to the conversations I overheard all around me, it is clear that Jazzercise is not just a program or a class or a studio. In El Cajon, and other places I suspect, Jazzercise is a community. I am honored to have been a part of that community (and hope I might be again in the future), and taking these classes not only helped me to get back into my body after my injuries and reminded me of my passion for dance aerobics. It also reminded me of the importance of self-care in all its incarnations.

When my feet, and knees, and inner thighs betrayed me after 60 miles on the Pacific Crest Trail, I renewed my love affair with our van. Apparently I am a #vanlifer though I did not know such a thing existed until my friend asked me if I was one. Apparently I am; however, my van life is much less fancy than most of the amazing van pictures that can be found by searching #vanlifers on Instagram.

We have no fancy pretty things, only an old comforter and mis-matched pillows and blankets. We have no extra insulation, no extra battery power, no bathroom, no kitchen (my kitchen is a cooler that plugs into the cigarette outlet and a Tupperware box that has a cutting board, knife, foil, etc.), no curtains, no extra heat or cooling. When it’s warm, we can roll down the windows and cover them with mosquito nets, held in place with magnets. However, mosquitos are kind of smart and figure out how to crawl under the netting between the magnets, so we will have to upgrade this feature. In the winter, we have sleeping bags and lots of blankets. We have woken up to find ice inside and outside our windows some mornings. We have some plans for curtains, insulation, and storage pockets, but we are also lazy and busy and what we have is functional.

Having a van that looks like a delivery van really helps with stealth camping. I should probably not list the places we have gotten away with sleeping in our van—don’t want to alert the authorities to the tricks of our trade—but we save a lot of money crawling into the back of our van to sleep on our thick, cushy camping pad from LL Bean. We’ve only been bothered by people a couple of times: once on the first night we slept in the back of the van (at a rest stop in New York) when some people tried to ply money from us at three in the morning and once when someone in Downeast Maine called the local Sheriff because our van looked “suspicious.” He checked our IDs and said there were no signs saying we can’t camp there so have a nice day.

We fit all of our summer and winter gear into this little van, though we have had to make adjustments at times and our winter gear and random junk is currently in storage with friends while we travel for the summer. But, my expert-packer can shove a lot of stuff into the storage space he built under the bed platform. The only thing that I’d really like to have in the van is a bathroom, but I survive.

(The slideshow above shows some of the places where the van has taken us in this last year plus--on my "unauthorized" sabbatical last winter and my real sabbatical this winter and spring, as well as on my resupply trips while my husband hiked the 100-mile wilderness of the Appalachian Trail last fall.)

My husband dreams of the things he could do with our van—or, another, better van—if only we had the financial resources. But I like the non-fancy, non-designer Ford Transit van that has been my home for several road trips and became my refuge when I had to stop hiking. When you can’t even stand on your own two feet let alone hobble the short distance to the bathroom, laying around in a van is a pretty nice thing.

So, while he hiked, I rested and read and was even able to do some restorative yoga in the back of my van. (Reclining butterfly with blanket props is quite comfy!) Some of my resting and waiting happened road-side. Some of it happened in the parking lot at the Warner Springs Community Center, a fabulous resource for PCT hikers. In addition to wi-fi, charging stations, an activity center, a backpacking gear store in an Airstream camper, bucket showers, foot baths, laundry services, and flush toilets and running water, the Warner Spring Community Center is a gathering place for hikers to rest, socialize, and re-stock with two free nights of camping

In my van, I was an outsider, an observer, but this is more about my typical mode of operation, and was not exclusive to me being in a van while the “real” hikers set up their tents in a field. No one really paid any attention to me or my van, even when I did weird things like walk around the track (unheard of among people who have just hiked 101.5 miles of the PCT!) and practice yoga under one of the big oak trees. Only one person stopped by my van to talk to me—a fellow New Englander thru-hiking the PCT who noticed our Maine plates (the one thing I feel is not at all stealth about our van).

Now that I have returned to my temporary home base and have a bed and the related amenities, I kind of want to go out to the carport and sleep in my van. I kind of want to live in my van, waking up to mountain views and river sounds and fresh air and solitude. A simple van for simple dreams….

Last year, thinking I would never get a break from my arduous job, I took an “unauthorized sabbatical”—a two-month trip across country, which included some work (sometimes a lot of work) with a lot of play. Not long after I returned, I was awarded an actual sabbatical—a semester of paid leave (and a research project).

For some people, the idea of walking away from work (and being paid while doing so) sounds easy. Further, walking into what might be perceived as “vacation”—the fun and selfish part of work—is certainly something to be jealous of. (I would be too.) But, it is not so easy.

What exactly is a sabbatical?
A sabbatical is an opportunity to take a break from teaching and committee work and crisis counseling and advising and all of the little things that add up to a lot of time and a lot of work throughout the semester, every semester, year after year. The sabbatical is an opportunity to focus on research—the part of our work that is so often marginalized by the “have-to” work.

At more elite institutions, faculty get an automatic sabbatical that does not necessarily have a significant research project. At UMA, faculty propose projects and compete for three sabbaticals per academic year. I did not expect to get one.

It is an honor and a privilege to be granted a sabbatical. I am excited to focus on my research. Because my research-related release time has been focused on developing Interdisciplinary Studies and the INT program and major AT UMA, I am trying to be selfish in choosing what I spend my time working on during my sabbatical.

I already have a long list of projects, and many are carry-over research-related projects:
Any time now (or later) I will receive my proofs from McFarland for my forthcoming book, Girls on Fire: Transformative Heroines in Young Adult Literature. I will proofread and index my book. This work is a total nerd fest and I have done it in the past in the midst of hectic semesters. Now I can give it singular attention.

In January, I will receive feedback on an article I submitted about teaching American Studies through Octavia Butler’s work. I will have to revise this article for publication.

And some are projects that have been a long time in the making: 
In March, I will complete the last of my 200-hour Registered Yoga Teacher certification (RYT-200). I took my first training in March of 2005 and have chipped away at the training while also teaching countless yoga classes as well as workshops and retreats.

Some projects are the things I don’t usually have time for (namely, writing):
I will also be doing yoga-related research and blogging about my yoga research and training, as well as my other adventures.

I may re-write and re-imagine my Women and Fitness in American Culture book along the lines of my original idea, and with the support of my students—as a feminist fitness memoir and manifesta.

There will certainly be other projects and variations of projects.

So, clearly a sabbatical is exciting and rewarding and a privilege I cannot refuse. But it is not easy to walk away from the responsibilities that shape my days and nights, occupy my mental and emotional space, and reward and exhaust me. This work goes home with me; it makes me who I am.

But I tell my students how important self-care is, and a sabbatical is the crown jewel of self-care. And I am making the most of it—extending it before and after the spring semester, so even though I am not working, I will be working.

But, I will sabbatical. I will read and write. I will play in the snow. I will hike miles and drive miles. I will take yoga classes and commit to a daily yoga practice. I will finish projects and imagine new ones. For a few months I will try to avoid email as much as possible; I will try not to worry about the details left undone, the work left to my colleagues.

I will return rejuvenated and ready to dig back into the trenches, but I will take my time getting there.

I’ll be posting on Facebook and my website/blog: www.cultureandmovement.com.

I pour everything into my yoga teaching, but I have never really tried to develop my personal practice. I have been intimidated and frustrated by meditation (my monkey mind does not stop). I have been turned off by the easy excuses for mindlessness justified by skewed yoga teachings (like the idea that positive thinking alone can change the world--as if such a thing could undo systems of inequality). I have been skeptical of assumptions about the power of energy (like the chakras which are undetectable by the naked eye). But, once again, I find yoga (and YogaFit) changing my mind....

Despite the many physical and mental benefits I have received as a result of my yoga teaching (tools for managing and alleviating anxiety, balancing emotions, clearer thinking, improving body awareness, and increasing self-esteem), I thought that I did not have the time or the space—or the need—for a personal practice. Teaching was my personal practice.

As a life-long learner, any kind of yoga workshop or training inspires my teaching, but the recent Mind/Body Fitness conference I attended is the first time I have been inspired by a YogaFit training to develop my personal practice. As I note in YogaFit Full Circle: An Evolving Teacher Training (part one), between taking Level 4 in 2012 and taking Level 5, Pranayama, and Meditation and Mindfulness in 2017, I explored some of the world of yoga beyond YogaFit. This space, and my own evolution, found me ready to learn new dimensions and ideas that I had not been ready to integrate in the past.

In my evolving teaching, I have only dabbled in the “woo-woo” of yoga. These moments have been mostly experimental and exploratory; they come and go as I remember and forget and rediscover. It has taken a lot of time and integration—kinesthetically and ideologically—for me to be ready for a deeper understanding of breathing and meditation and a deeper understanding of myself. Through this time of exploration and integration, I find that a lot of the woo-woo actually makes sense. And some of it makes sense for my teaching and my personal practice. And the following, I think. makes sense to share....

Teaching Re-Commitment: breathing and yoga wisdom (in baby steps)
I am always telling my classes—yoga and cardio—to remember to breathe. Participants regularly thank me for this reminder. I give these reminders because I know the importance of breathing, mostly from my own practice. When I teach, I teach from my own body and if I am forgetting to breathe, then I know I need to remind my classes to do so.

But my one-day workshop on Pranayama really drove home the importance of breathing—not only of breathing, but of breathing effectively. The three-part breath and the principles of one breath per movement have been ingrained in my mind and body and cemented in my teaching; sometimes I would teach lion’s breath or alternate nostril breathing or equal ration breath, but these were often just attempts at variation and experimentation. I'm starting to bring in more breathing techniques like bee's breath, horse lips, and Amy Weintraub's Hara breath.

Effective breathing means not only emphasizing the inhale (as I always do), but also emphasizing the importance of the exhale. While I always say exhale, I had never thought about why the exhale is at least as important as the inhale. As my trainer (Kelly Gardener) said, “you have to let it all out to get it back in.” Further, we learned that 70% of the toxins in the body are released through the breath; if we are not breathing those toxins out, we are keeping them in. Optimal breath can equal optimal health.

Effective breathing means reversing the habits we have been trained into (paradoxical breathing where we inhale and suck in our stomach) and breathing all the way into the lungs, expanding the ribcage and the belly with the breath (what is referred to as lower body breathing). I had practiced this breath, but I had not understood what this kind of breath was actually doing for our bodies. I had not thought a lot about the function of the breath to nourish our bodies.

I had uttered things like “breath is life” and “breathing consciously is the simplest form of yoga,” but I had not fully integrated or embodied what these phrases mean. In a world that induces anxiety, breathing can slow things down and help alleviate to stress and to fuel every one of our bodily functions. This is particularly true of the nervous system, which can be relaxed and stimulated through breathing.

Breathing consciously can also help to keep us present in our lives—in the here and now, so to speak. A few months ago, I came across a quote from an ancient Chinese philosopher who said that if we are living in the past, we are likely depressed, and if we are living in the future, we are anxious. Only when we live in the present can we find peace of mind. This is one of my biggest challenges and I work to bring this focus on the now to my students as well as to myself.

Commitment to Personal Practice: daily meditation (KISS), positive affirmation, movement, music, mantra, and conscious breathing.
For most of my years of yoga, my personal practice has been synonymous with my teaching. The benefits I got from teaching were enough, I thought, even though sometimes I have felt the need to also do yoga just for me.

On my hiatus from YogaFit, I began to develop a personal practice, but this practice has been more reactive and sporadic than proactive and consistent. The tools I learned from Bo Forbes (myofascial release, interoception, and yoga for empaths) infiltrated my teaching, but were the foundation of my personal practice. So while I introduced “football” and other techniques with the tennis ball, my exploration of these tools have been mostly developed through my practice—suddenly feeling the need to roll out my feet or back, suddenly feeling the need to focus on my breathing.

My YogaFit training with Kelly Gardner (Pranayama and Meditation and Mindfulness) and Sandi Cartwright (Level 5) gave me permission to play with breathing and meditation, the tools to make my personal practice my own, and the impetus to establish a set of rituals that give my mind/body what it needs.

Kelly made breathing and meditation far less intimidating and easy to integrate. In fact, what I learned about meditation told me that I am already practicing meditation techniques; I am just not giving myself credit for “meditation.” Meditation is not about tuning out, but about tuning in; it is like “falling awake,” Kelly told us. And so even though I often feel like maybe I am not doing meditation right, at least I am doing it consistently. As Kelly assured us, trying is doing. I think about meditation now through the “keep it simple, sugar” acronym of KISS; no need to overthink meditation. In fact, that’s kind of the point.

In my development of my personal practice I am trying and doing simply. I have more than 19 days in a row of morning meditation—something I never thought I would be able to do. I am also less skeptical of positive affirmations and mantra (even though I remain skeptical of some of the claims that are made about “The Secret,” for instance).

I have reinvigorated my love of moving meditation and the power of music, and I practice conscious breathing far more often throughout my day. I have routine and flexibility; I decide what kind of meditation or breathing techniques I need based upon the moment rather than a prescribed plan, but I set aside time every morning. I continue to play with ideas and approaches and to evolve my personal practice for my own self-care as well as my continuing evolution as a teacher. While I look forward to where all of this will go, I am increasingly content with simply being here now. And that’s also something I thought was entirely impossible.

When I was a girl, my family went to Mexico with a group of church friends to do volunteer work at an orphanage in Mexico. I remember getting a kind of debriefing by one of the adults, probably my mom, before we went. I don’t remember her exact words, but she told us that the kids there do not have what we have. She told us that the people we are helping are poor and that they don’t speak English. But, she said, the word no means the same thing in English as it does in Spanish. So, if there is a situation where you are uncomfortable, just say no.

They also told us not to drink the water.

There was another girl named Sarah (my same age and one of my forced church friends) who was blonder than me, richer than me, cooler than me.* Her family regularly did such volunteer work. I remember watching her interact with the kids, letting them touch her hair. She looked like a Barbie doll being played with. I also remember saying no a lot. I felt uncomfortable and out of place; I wanted to do work, but we were not given work to help with.

This was the first time I had come face-to-face with abject poverty. I did not know what to make of it. I did not understand what made those kids different from me. I did not understand what made this place different from the place that I came from. And I did not understand why the people that I traveled to Mexico with had to be so arrogant and self-satisfied with their charity and goodness. They lived in luxury and they acted like a day in Mexico erased their privilege.

Of course, this is my interpretation and language looking back 30+ years. At the time, I did not have an understanding of the form and function of privilege. I was not asked by my education and profession to examine my privilege at every moment. I had not developed the white guilt that keeps so many white Americans on the defensive. I only knew that I was uncomfortable with the way that Sarah acted toward the Mexican kids.

These lessons from Mexico have continued to echo throughout my life. Examining my privilege, teaching my students to examine their own, are ongoing processes. Most of my students have pretty hard lives, but of course we all have privilege relative to someone else, and that someone is not always somewhere else.

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As I travel back to the place I grew up (and back to Mexico) and reflect upon these childhood experiences, I am also reading Roxane Gay’s book of essays, Bad Feminist. (I love this book!) In “Peculiar Benefits” she writes about her own reflections on privilege, which echo mine: “We tend to believe that accusations of privilege imply we have it easy, which we resent because life is hard for nearly everyone. Of course we resent these accusations.” I worked through the resentment (and guilt) phase as an undergrad, but my entire PhD education was spent navigating what Gay (and many others) refer to as the “Game of Privilege” (or the “Oppression Olympics”).

“Too many people, “she writes, “have become self-appointed privilege police . . . ready to remind people of their privilege whether those people have denied that privilege or not.” This policing is especially prevalent in the online world, Gay notes. In my own experience and observations, this policing keeps people on the attack and on the defense. Attacks often come from insecurity, jealousy, and misplaced frustrations. Individuals are called out and we forget the larger system that makes privilege invisible. Gay argues that “we need to get to a place where we discuss privilege by way of observation and acknowledgement rather than accusation. We need to be able to argue beyond the threat of privilege.” We need to get to this place together.

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Don’t get me wrong. It is immensely important to acknowledge our own privilege and not enough of us do this. (And, really, it can be tempting to want to beat that recognition into some arrogant assholes.) My work as a professor of American studies and women’s studies requires me to examine my own privilege and point out the privileges that many of us share. There is always someone with more and someone with less. But Gay’s arguments are helpful here as well: we need to “understand the extent of [our] privilege, the consequences of [our] privilege, and remain aware that people who are different from [us] move through and experience the world in ways [we] might never know anything about.” We do not, she argues, need to apologize for our privilege.

This negotiation can be a fine line. It can also be difficult to understand the ways that “people who are different from [us] move through and experience the world” if we do not have the opportunity to learn about people who are different from us. And, it often takes at least a modicum of privilege to be in situations where we can learn about different people’s experiences. And, of course, having our actions and inquiries policed for privilege can stunt the process. But, respect, humility, and a lack of romanticization can go a long way.

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Today I have the privilege to be able to arrange my schedule so that I can travel while still working my full-time+ job. Travel itself is a privilege, as one of my students reminded me when I shared my mid-trip mini-bout of depression with them in an email. I have the privilege to cross the Mexican border relatively easily, and I have a passport to return to the U.S. a few days later. I will be full with as many tortillas and avocadoes as I can eat and I will have the one bottle of Kahlua I am allowed to bring back. I will have spent most of my time in relative comfort, making footprints on a mostly empty beach.

I also have the privilege to work countless hours a week, to never stop working, to work through summers that professors have “off.” (I haven’t taken a “vacation,” let alone more than a few days away from work, in more than seven years.) I have the privilege to be underpaid and to use my hard-earned salary to buy food and supplies for my students when the budget won’t cover it. I am not that much different from most of my colleagues. We do this work, in part, because we have privilege and we have decided to use what little power we have to make a difference in the lives of the people we serve. If we don’t take care of ourselves, we burn out quickly.

If I mired in guilt over my privilege I would not be available for late-night emails and emergency texts from students. I would not be able to serve those who are trying to better understand themselves and the world around them, let alone better understand those whose lives and experiences are different from theirs. I would not be able to create opportunities for my students that they would not otherwise have. I would not be able to draw their attention to the structural inequalities that perpetuate privilege and oppression. I would not be able to equip them with tools to develop critical consciousness and the confidence to fight for what they think is right.

I would not be able to enjoy a few moments of sun and beach, and the privilege to be able to reflect upon my privilege in the middle of my working vacation.

 
*Side note/background: I grew up in El Cajon, California, which is a short drive to the Mexico border. The only other childhood trip  to Mexico that I remember was to a beach house that Sarah’s family owned or rented. There, we were surrounded by Americans enjoying the surf and sand. I got a wicked sunburn. As a teenager I went to Tijuana to drink once. We walked across the border. This was about my extent of my experience with Mexico, at least on the other side of the border. Mexican food was our favorite food. Mexican American girls were my friends, classmates, and teammates. Mexico was a neighbor and we shared people and customs. Still, I could often feel an invisible divide and the inequalities were clearly observable even from naïve/innocent eyes.

I have tried many names and many incarnations of my particular "brand" of fitness dance: Pleasure, Power, and Movement; Feminist Fitness; Just Dance; Organic Dance (the biggest failure); and, most recently, Mind/Body Fitness Dance.

During the fall semester I previewed Mind/Body Fitness Dance at UMA-Bangor. I had positive feedback to this fitness class, and I decided to offer it this spring as a two-part series. While I have struggled to keep consistent attendance at this kind of fitness/dance class at the YMCA, I think that teaching this class on campus allows me to more fully share all of the nuanced aspects of this fitness form.

Starting this Thursday I will be offering Mind/Body Fitness dance on campus, Thursdays from 5:15 to 6:15. I have created a pamphlet that explains a little more about this form of fitness and dance, but it is really something that has to be experienced and embodied.

People are often afraid to dance, afraid to move outside of culture’s strictly draw boundaries of body and space. This is especially true of women and girls. We are taught to take up as little space as possible and we fear judgment and doing things wrong. I know this because I used to feel this way too.

I found confidence in fitness classes that allowed me to follow directions--and to give those directions when I became an instructor. In both cases, movements were rigid, linear, contained. In group exercise classes we generally know what to expect and the rise of manufactured fitness classes (like Zumba, Les Mills, and MOSSA) make for consistent, predictable workouts. While not everyone enjoys classes, many find safety in proscribed movements.

Invitations to try Mind/Body Fitness Dance are met with: I can’t dance. I only dance when no one’s home. I have no rhythm. I can’t follow directions. I need to be told what to do. I am so out of shape. These are excuses I hear often.

I also hear the unspoken reasons. I am insecure about my body (too fat, too thin, too something wrong). I am uncomfortable trying new things. I’m scared. I have anxiety. (I have made all these excuses too.) But all of these discomforts are exactly what Mind/Body Fitness Dances offers to alleviate.

Movement helps us let go. Music gives us a landscape. Structure and freedom help us feel safe while we also have literal and figurative space to explore.

Mind/Body Fitness Dance has changed my approach to fitness and has helped me to find more confidence, wellness, balance, and joy in my life. Sharing this movement--my art--with those who are brave enough to try something different is scary and rewarding. I share Mind/Body Fitness Dance as a tool of self-care; it is my gift to my community.

Eastport 124, on a Thursday afternoon, is private and the environment is conducive to freedom of movement. Music fills, but does not overwhelm the space and the play of light and dark enhance the dance fitness experience.

I want to invite students, faculty, staff, and community members to try this form of mind/body fitness dance. When we step into the dance, we leave these roles and become movement. Lose yourself. Find Yourself. Move and Be Moved.

Yoga is something that has to be experienced, but many people’s first experiences with yoga can be off-putting. Maybe it is because the class is not a good fit. It is too advanced or too gentle or too new-agey or too fast or lacks instruction in the basics. Finding the right introduction to yoga might take several tries. The teacher, the style, the space, the music, the community can all be factors that shape a yoga experience positively or negatively.

There are also plenty of people whose first (or second) introduction to yoga transforms their lives. This is the experience that I want for everyone, especially for those who come to my classes. Yoga should not be scary. Nor should it be elite. Yoga is truly for every body. And it really is magical.

But not everyone can get to a class and finding the right class isn’t always easy (and sometimes we don’t even know what we’re looking for!). This is one of the reasons why I am sharing some introductions to yoga here and on my YouTube channel. These videos offer a standing warm-up series, a lying warm-up or cool-down series, and a seated stretch series. These videos can be used individually or linked together. They can also be broken into the pieces that work best for you. However you use these videos, there are a few important things to keep in mind for safety and effectiveness. This blog offers a few important things to know about yoga in order to get the most out of your practice.

For me, and for many others, yoga has been transformational, personally and professionally. I hope to bring this powerful form of breath and movement to as many people as I can. I teach three classes a week and reach a lot of people there. I have been asked by many people to provide some introduction to yoga and these videos are my attempt to reach beyond my studio and classroom. Even for experienced yogis, these basics are important to remember.

The advice below is meant specifically to introduce my video instruction; however, these ideas are even more important if you want to go try a yoga class or a yoga DVD or video. The more you know about these basics, the more you will get from the yoga you do.

First, a few myths to dispel. There are a lot of different kinds of yoga and a lot of different variations on those kinds. Yoga is not “just stretching” and it is not a “religion.” Yoga is a mind/body form of exercise in some spaces and a system of philosophies in others. Yoga is something that anyone and everyone—all sizes, ages, and levels of ability—can do. Yoga is about how you feel, not about how you look. You should choose the yoga that you like, try the yoga that might be a bit out of your comfort zone, and leave the yoga that does not appeal to you. Yoga can be weird and scary when it is unfamiliar, but it can also be a positive force when we commit to a regular practice.
Now, before we begin a physical practice:

Yoga—and any other form of physical fitness activity—requires the advice that you should consult with your physician before trying yoga. This is good advice, but what I offer here also mitigates the need for such permission. If one is truly practicing yoga, the risks are quite minimal. In other words, if you follow these principles (below), this practice is safe for most people.

Conscious breathing is the simplest form of yoga. There are several different breathing techniques taught in yoga. The simplest form is just to breathe in through the nose… and out through the nose. We try to take full, deep breaths that last about the same amount of time on the way in as they do on the way out. We might think about expanding the lungs, the ribcage, and the belly as we inhale and emptying the belly, ribcage, and lungs with the exhale (also known as a three-part breath). Breathing in this way, and being aware of this breath, is doing yoga.

Listen to your body. If something hurts, don’t do it. While this is always good advice, it is especially important in yoga practice. In some classes instructors do not offer a variety of levels and variations and people who are new to class (as well as people who attend regularly) often feel that they have to do exactly what the instructor or the other participants are doing. If you can’t do something, and especially if it hurts, you should not do it and a good instructor should be able to give you an option or variation. But it is important to know the difference between discomfort and pain. Discomfort helps us push past plateaus; pain causes us injury and mental and physical harm. Each time you do yoga it is your breath, your options, your flow, and your practice.

Yoga is a lifelong process that is different from day to day. It is not necessarily about progressing from the “easier” options to the more “advanced” options. There is no linear trajectory; the process grows in many directions. Yoga asks us to “let go of competition” with ourselves and with others, to listen to our bodies, and to make the best choices for the particular moment. (A good life lesson as well.) When we let ourselves be in the moment, we can make more of those moments. You should never force yourself into a pose. If the pose isn’t working for you, move on and try it another time.

Yoga is movement and flow—one breath per movement. While yoga is a set of poses/postures that are often practiced in isolation or in a linear progression, my aim in my classes and practice is flow. I work to create a series of movements that flow together, allowing for more relaxation and attempting to link breath and movement. Keeping in mind the one breath per movement principle helps to foster flow. Inhale up and exhale down, for instance. Flow in yoga describes our physical movement, but can also describe our psychological state of being fully in the moment when we are “in the zone,” so to speak.

Props are tools, not crutches. When my classes are small enough I use the few props I have available where I teach. I think a lot of people think that using a prop means that they can’t do the yoga poses the “right” way. Since there is no “right” way, there are many ways that blocks, blankets, pillows, straps (or resistance bands), stability balls, tennis balls, and walls can be used to enhance our practice. These props make some poses more comfortable and other poses more challenging. Using a block can help to find new aspects of poses and can also help us to enhance the mind/body connection. I demonstrate some use of props in my videos, offering techniques that can be used whenever needed. But really, props should be used to make you feel more comfortable when needed.

So, now that we have some basic ideas for our minds to ponder—and maybe we ponder these ideas again and again—we can experience the transformative power of yoga in our bodies. To get started, check out my first introductory video.
As you get comfortable with the basics, these might be enough to make a positive impact in your life and physical, mental, and spiritual health. Or, perhaps, this is only the beginning of a life-long journey.
~
These ideas and videos reflect my personal teaching style, which has been fostered through my level 1 through 4 trainings with YogaFit as well as self-study. I have also attended a variety of yoga-related workshops (the most influential ones with Bo Forbes) and I have taught yoga classes 2 to 4 times a week for more than a decade. But my style and experience are only one approach to yoga. And there is always more to discover when practicing yoga!

Usually a snow day means that I don't have to leave the house. When the snow piles up outside, I can catch up on work... or ignore work and read in bed all day. Since the YMCA never closes and rarely cancels class, I still have to shovel snow and find my few die hards for yoga or cardio mix or Group Groove. And then I can go home and enjoy a nap or some frozebee (frisbee but frozen) with my snow-loving dog.

But this winter something odd happened, something I never thought would happen--I became a snowboarder.

I don't mean that I have gone snowboarding this winter. I did that a few times when I was in my early to mid-twenties. After a night of too much drinking and not enough sleeping, my friends would drag me to the mountain and then ditch me or wait impatiently while I tried to get my act together. I never really developed the skills, even when I stopped constantly falling, and I can't really remember enjoying the activity. Not really. It was especially gruesome when "fresh powder" was the prize and the day began before the sunrise.

But now I am a snowboarder, and I too crave fresh powder. I finally understand the appeal, the need to get first tracks. I actually look forward to boarding, and I have found myself boarding in conditions I never thought I would venture out in: below freezing temperatures, winds of 20 to 30 miles per hours, falling snow, even rain. I no longer panic at the thought of exiting the chair lift (though I still fall sometimes), and I find myself smiling at the simple thought of boarding down the mountain. Sometimes I don't even want to take a break!

It helps that I have been re-learning on a small mountain. The mountains of Maine can hardly be called mountains compared to out West. But, Hermon Mountain is a small, local mountain. It has one chairlift and the same faces, obscured by goggles and wind-burn, appear again and again. It has night skiing, which I have come to love far more than day skiing. Again, to my surprise. Since my husband is volunteer ski patrol, my season pass means I can board whenever I want. And since I don't have to pay, I don't have to worry about getting the most for my money (which was always added pressure).

When I took up snowboarding this season I couldn't remember how long it had been since I had been on a snowboard--twelve to fifteen years! There was still a learning curve, though not the same painful curve of the first time learning how to balance, stand up, fall down, crash, get up, keep the heel edge, risk a toe turn, fall down, get up, and finally point the board down the hill. After many falls, after over-thinking, after icy conditions, the first snow day and real powder of the season gave me the confidence I needed.

But it also gave me more than just confidence. I finally understood the allure of the sport. I did not control my board; it simply took me down the mountain and I swear there were moments when I must have been flying. It sounds cliché, but it is true. Boarding in fresh powder is beyond any other experience and it cannot be explained, only lived. I finally pointed down the hill and went faster than I ever thought I would want to go. And it keeps getting better.

I even ventured off of my small local mountain, visiting Big Rock in Mars Hill and actually feeling the burn of sustained boarding down a run that takes longer than a minute to get back to the chair lift. As the pictures here attest, I somehow also agreed to snowshoe up Big Squaw mountain and snowboard down it. Fun in retrospect, this day (and others since) reminded me that confidence can be broken and must be relearned. It also taught me that my adorable fun dog is really, really annoying once the snowboards are strapped on and we are trying to get down the mountain. (That's another story there.)

Now, I look forward to snow days (and lament the end of snow days as the weather gets "nice"), which has also helped me to remember the importance of self-care. Those papers will still be there to be graded. My inbox will continue to fill. But this winter I have learned a new skill and found a new love. I have found a lost part of myself, and I have rekindled a love that is as permanent, challenging, and ever-changing as a mountain.

Just when I thought that fitness was not on the American Studies Association annual conference program (see Yoga for a Cause), I attended the ASA Women's Committee session Saturday afternoon, "Critical Conjunctures of Debt: Women of Color,  Healthcare Disparities, and Advocacy." I was a little bit late. After two moving presentations by the other panel members, Shirley Tang and Jacki Rand, Koritha Mitchell gave the presentation I had come for: "Pay Yourself First and Pay It Forward: The Black Girls RUN! Project."

In Women and Fitness in American Culture I highlight the problematic aspects of the national healthcare agenda and the conversation around American fitness that we see in popular culture. I also highlight the ways in which fitness can help us work toward transforming these conversations and policies. Koritha Mitchell's presentation complements my work in important ways as her arguments about the bigger picture of American fitness mesh with mine, and she extends the conversation to speak specifically to black women's experiences, in all their diversity. At the end of the panel, chair and commentator, Alondra Nelson, remarked that it's about time that we consider health research in the Arts and Sciences. I couldn't agree more, and I hope that my work provides a jumping off point for many conversations, like those begun at ASA by professors Mitchell and Nelson.

Professor Mitchell framed her discussion of Black Girls Run! through a larger picture of American culture and politics, particularly the racism of "know-your-place aggression" seen in its most extremes in the recent Trayvon Martin and Renisha McBride cases. These cases are nothing new, and they are not rare. In this climate, Mitchell argues, "exercise has become invaluable"; it is a way to avoid despair and to prioritize self-care while equipping others to do the same. This is particularly important for black women and other women of color who are devalued--body and mind--by American culture and whose lives are often wholly devoted to the service of others. As Mitchell argues, "energy is our most precious resource" and black women deserve to put themselves first. Preserving such energy is the only way to continue to give that energy to our families, our communities, our work, and to social justice.

She also frames her discussion in terms of the national debate about health care and the emphasis in American culture on health and fitness as weight loss. Mitchell's presentation was not the only one at ASA to make a connection between the government initiatives of "My Plate" and "Let's Move" and the limited and limiting representations of "health" and "fitness" that target African American women. (Karisa Butler-Wall presented her paper, "Risky Business: Race, Citizenship, and the Biopolitics of Debt in the 'Obesity Crisis.'") But the problems that plague black women's health are not individual problems; they are structural problems. As Mitchell argues, Americans are sedentary. Americans eat too much salt and sugar. Americans eat too much fast food.

After framing the climate and arguing the importance of self-care, Dr. Mitchell discussed the ways in which The Black Girls Run! chapter that she organized in Columbus, OH, in April of 2011, helps to mitigate these circumstances and transform the experiences of black women individually and in community. The story she tells is one that echoes and extends the stories I tell in Women and Fitness in American Culture. While I weave other voices and stories into my own, I also make it clear that my experience in fitness is limited by my geographical locations, my whiteness, my middle-class status, and other factors that shape women's individual and collective fitness experiences. We need more stories.

We need to take up more space. The work of Black Girls Run! takes place in cyber spaces as well as in real life. Mitchell notes the supportive environment that Facebook offers through its daily activity and the ways in which this organization continues to resist the notion that losing weight is motivation for exercise. BGR! adopts the important ideas that exercise is beneficial no matter what size a woman is and that exercise is punishment if it is linked to weight loss. These are important messages in a culture that devalues "fat" while blaming the individual for structural problems.

Perhaps the most important philosophy expressed through Mitchell's chapter of BGR! is the idea: "I am grateful I can move, so I am moving." This is the basis for feminist and mind/body fitness that I discuss in Women and Fitness in American Culture. Likewise, BGR! is flexible, supports beginners, and operates with a "no woman left behind" philosophy. Everyone crosses the finish line and everyone does the level of activity they are able to do that day. Members support one another on the run and in life; they challenge each other to be their best. And yet, Mitchell argues, there is no flexibility with a culture of excuses. (And she provides fun motivational messages like those on her Pinterest page.) BGR! leaders must be reliable and on time, and must not let weather control their desire to run. Ultimately, building a community presence means being accountable to that community. Strong leaders like Koritha Mitchell, make a difference.

As I note of my own work in the sphere of fitness, Mitchell argues that the work she does with Black Girls Run! makes her work in academia possible. Running is crucial for Mitchell's intellectual self, just as my practice of yoga and cardio/dance are for me. For both of us, this fitness space allows us to interact with people outside of academia, to connect with our community in meaningful ways. For Mitchell, this is an important space of connection since the two activities that allow black women to interact (traditionally, and in Columbus specifically)--church and activities for children--are not spaces Mitchell is involved with. Further, she notes that this work has "really driven home for me just how diverse black women are. If we didn't have racism," she notes, then black women might not have much in common.

Diverse women come together in fitness spaces, and the benefits of fitness communities cannot be overlooked or underestimated. As Dr. Nelson pulled together the threads of the presentations on this panel, she included a slide show with quotes from the Black Panther Party and Audre Lorde. In both cases, the importance of self-care and health as an integral part of the "aspiration and practice" of "the liberation struggle" were highlighted. Her role call of women in academia lost too soon was a sobering reminder that the importance of self-care is both an individual and structural problem and priority, particularly for women of color whose bodies and minds are undervalued and exploited. Health and fitness are issues that cross categories and disciplines and deserve a more thorough look from the arts and sciences, and from interdisciplinary, feminist inquiry, as well as from American studies scholars.