Besides understanding almost nothing spoken to me by the Danish and being lost every time I have tried to find my way around Odense (Copenhagen has been far easier to navigate!), the things I share in common with the Danish (according to my orientation and observations so far) make me think I might be Danish…

The Danes wear a lot of black. Welcome to my wardrobe.

The Danes mostly wear what we call tennis shoes or sneakers. I don’t believe in wearing uncomfortable shoes and pretty much wear my (Saucony or Adidas) tennis shoes all the time.

The Danes respect privacy and I tend to be a rather private person (not counting my professional life!). I’ve been told it can be difficult to make friends with the Danish and their established social circles, but (being shy and a bit of a homebody) I have always found it hard to make friends.

The Danish cultural staple of hygge is pretty much what I strive for in my life (of course I have much more to learn about hygge!).

The Danish believe in work/life balance and taking care of people. I have often let my work/life balance suffer because of my tendency to take care of people (and myself), but this is one of the things I have been working on over the last few years and have gotten closer to achieving through my recent sabbatical and current Fulbright.

The Danes like to eat and drink. Clearly I do not enjoy these activities (sarcasm!). Bread and cheese (after pork and fish) are staples of the Danish diet and I have fallen in love with at least four varieties of bread that I have had. (Stay tuned for more on brød!)

There are other similarities as well, but not everything can be the same. I am not much of a bike-rider and prefer to walk; however, I have certainly experienced the pleasure and freedom that a bike can bring and may end up becoming a bike lover or at least biking out of necessity.

And, while I have read that the Danes are literal-minded and don’t understand sarcasm, I have been assured by at least several Danes that this is totally true (but their answer was delivered sarcastically!). Since most of my daily conversation and teaching is rather sarcastic, I was really worried that my students would not understand my sarcasm or sense of humor at all. So, now I don’t have to worry quite as much!

Finally, the Danes value their participatory democracy, support their welfare state, and believe in equality (achieved through an interventionist state and the redistribution of wealth) and strive for flat hierarchies and egalitarian ethos. My “socialist” tendencies mesh much better with the Danes, but I still have much to unpack regarding these similarities, particularly the Danish tendency toward social cohesion that may lead toward resentment toward immigrants in some cases.

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.
*
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!

When I teach American Studies to U.S. students, I often have to help them unpack the years of stereotypes and partial truths that they were raised on and brainwashed by, I mean, educated through. For some students, the critiques and questions of American Studies click right away and they usually take as many of my classes as they can fit into their program. For other students, the discomfort and discord is a constant struggle though almost all of them report that it was a worthwhile struggle.

My Denmark students have chosen to study America and I want to know why. I want to know what is different about the ways in which Danish students see and understand America, and what interests them about America as a subject of study—whether they are taking an undergrad class for elective credit or have chosen to pursue a graduate education in the subject.

How do Danish students learn about America—in school and outside of school? Are they critical? Curious? Confused? Will they be interested in the subject matter I will be teaching? (How could they not be: hip-hop and young adult dystopia?!) Or will they prefer the more conventional (and still fascinating) subject matter of American studies—the histories and the classics, for instance.

And, of course, I expect I will learn far more than I will teach—about Denmark, about my subject matter, about myself. While the American Studies I teach is “critical,” I wonder if I will discover a latent American exceptionalism that is part of the core of being an American. I wonder if my enthusiasm and passion and some of my less conventional approaches will scare them or engage them (or both).

While I am prepared to teach my subject matter, this is the least prepared I have felt this close to the start of a semester. In addition to not really knowing what to expect from my students, I also have not been to campus and I have not seen my office or my classrooms. I have no idea how many students are in my classes, and I don’t even know what day and time I am teaching one of my classes. While these questions will be answered soon enough, the bigger questions will take more work.
To quote Hamilton (which I will be teaching): “Let’s go.”

Teaching many varieties of mind/body fitness dance has come with far more failures than successes. Of course, I guess it depends upon how we define failure. Ultimately, moving one person—literally or figuratively—is a success. And I know I have moved many. But, still, the medium of fitness/dance/yoga meets intersectional feminism is not easy territory.

Failure is not something we talk a lot about. We don’t celebrate our failures; we might even hide them. And when we see successful people, their failures are not usually part of the picture. But they are there and they shape us and what we do.

During my eight-month sabbatical, remote summer teaching, and an extended vacation, I experienced many failures, especially in the fitness world. My “Yoga Outside the Box” series in McCall, Idaho had decent attendance for the first class, and then the second two classes failed to attract anyone. While there are many reasons why attendance can be so dismal, it is difficult not to take such a failure to heart. I had put hours into designing this series and was excited to share it with my new yoga community. But I had not been able to establish a yoga community and this failure led me to re-think my future yoga directions.

I also attempted to schedule a Girls on Fire mind/body dance fitness class at Washington State University’s Student Recreation Center—something I have wanted to do since I stopped teaching classes there when I finished my PhD. My initial contact was answered immediately, but after two phone calls and multiple emails, we failed to set a date in time to promote the class and make the kinds of connections I wanted to make and things fell apart. After this failure, I felt ready to give up on this thing I have such a passion for, this thing that is quirky (and thus intimidating) in a fitness world where the box has a strong hold.

And bad timing caused me to be unable to schedule a guest class at the Jazzercise studio in El Cajon where I took classes, recovered from injuries, and re-grew my commitment to fitness. After six weeks of taking Jazzercise classes, I knew the women in this space would be willing to try this Girls on Fire thing. They danced so freely. I rethought my Girls on Fire Class Format as well as other directions and developments for this work and I have an invitation to teach a class next time I am in town.

All of these failures have led to several possible opportunities for success:

I now have two versions of my Girls on Fire class: yoga-centered with a splash of dance and fitness dance with a splash of yoga. Both versions have developed new aspects of the critical art of mind/body fitness.

I developed new directions for my yoga teaching and new fusions of yoga and dance. Because I also completed my 200 hours of training for my RYT certification, I feel more prepared to explore and develop this aspect of my critical and creative work.

My ego is slightly bruised and I feel more humble as I return to my home ground before I embark into more new territory.

*
Returning to my home crowd at the Bangor YMCA is both exciting and scary. I have not taught this thing I have been working on and it is a bit different than what they are used to. I have developed the story-telling aspect of my mind/body fitness dance and infused dance with yoga. It can be just a dance fitness class as much as a moving mind/body experience. Will they like it or will it be too far outside the box?

What is scarier, perhaps, is that in less than a week I am leaving for Denmark and I am taking this work with me. I will be teaching a graduate-level Girls on Fire: YA Dystopia and American Futures class (and a Hip-Hop America class as well as team teaching a theory and methods course), and if the students are open to the idea, I intend to offer this Girls on Fire mind/body fitness dance as an example of ideas from class in action. My American students are sometimes willing, I wonder if students in Denmark will be open to this artistic/critical interpretation.

*
Since I am an optimist, and internally driven, I rarely pause to think about the many failures that have gotten me where I am today. I’m more likely to imbue my successes with doubt. But my sabbatical forced me to have time and experiences that were outside my comfort zone and to reflect upon what I learned and where I want to go. My Girls on Fire work reminds me that failure is not an option; when we are passionate about something and willing to do the work, we find success even in failure because we were brave enough to try.

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.
*
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.

*
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….

 The Pacific Crest Trail has entered popular culture’s radar via Wild, Cheryl Strayed’s book—and more, Reese Witherspoon’s portrayal of Strayed in the film based on the book. But most of the pop culture activity related to the PCT happens online. Hikers create videos—informative and artistic. They communicate with each other on Facebook pages and in other social media forums. More popular than ever, the number of hikers is increasing each year. Beginning April 11, 2018 I will be hiking a significant portion of the PCT with my husband; it’s a hike that has always been a dream of his. It is part of my sabbatical. So, while I will be enjoying the adventure and challenge, and relaxation and beauty, of the trail, I can't help but also think about this unique aspect of American culture.

Bragging rights exist for those who can complete the entire hike in one trip. I’m happy to hike a portion, at an enjoyable pace, over the next three and a half months. We’ve backpacked many shorter trips, many challenging hikes, but the PCT is a different kind of experience. There’s the time commitment; through hikers often commit four to six months to the endeavor. There’s the cost of food and permits and gear and the work of planning and assembling re-supply packages. There’s the wear and tear on the body and the sometimes-monotonous task of putting one foot in front of the other. The varied terrain and climates mean being prepared for anything.

There is also the culture of the PCT. There’s the culture that begins before-hand through films, documentaries, YouTube channels, blogs, books, magazine articles, and other media spaces. On the trail there’s the trail names and shared understandings. There’s the well-known spots to camp or eat, the towns that are friendly to hikers and often have a tourist industry devoted to hikers. There are the Trail Angels who leave water or food caches for hikers. There’s the continuation of the social media spaces that help prepare hikers for the experience, reporting on hiking progress and trail conditions.

No doubt there are many aspects of this culture that can only be discovered through the experience of hiking. This portion of my sabbatical takes me into different cultural realms. Being a scholar of American studies and women’s studies with an interest in culture, enhances my experience of the PCT and, I hope, brings another perspective to our understanding of this cultural experience of the American West, the American wilderness, and the many cultures that surround and intersect the PCT.

Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel is a unique example of dystopian fiction. Centered around an aging (and dying actor) at the cusp of the old world and a traveling symphony navigating the new world, Mandel reveals the ways in which the past shapes the future, as well as the ways in which the past is reshaped into the future. She also gives us a different way of telling a story about the future—shifting from one plot line to the next, through a number of character’s lives and stories, rather than focusing around the exploits and struggles of a single protagonist.

One of the things that makes this book unique is that it is a more of a story of the re-building of the world than it is a story of its unraveling, though it is both stories at the same time. The past is intricately woven with the present through people’s memories, through objects that become artifacts, and through art. A wide-ranging cast of characters are connected by coincidence and by the necessities of surviving after nearly everyone has been wiped out by a flu epidemic.

A New York Times bestseller, the quotes from reviewers are always telling about how a particular book is positioned in the world of literature, generally, and the “burgeoning post-apocalyptic” genre specifically. Several reviews mention other authors or works, including The Road and Cormac McCarthy, but in these mentions, Station Eleven is also compared to writers known for their character development like Joan Didion and James Joyce. And in any review of post-apocalyptic fiction, a reference to Orwell is inevitable. But what these quotes reveal is the author’s ability to connect numerous strands and unfold them in a compelling way.

Another unique feature of this book is its ability to portray an international, borderless future even as our mechanisms for creating such a world, like air travel and the internet, disappear. The first border that becomes invisible is the one between Canada and the United States as characters migrate from Toronto, walking south into what used to be Michigan. Another border disappears as passengers from a variety of domestic and international flights are stranded in an airport, survive the flu epidemic, and build a new community. The divisions of the old world are obsolete.

While this book is certainly not among the genre of young adult dystopia that I write about in Girls on Fire: Transformative Heroines in Young Adult Dystopian Literature, Mandel brings us the character of Kirsten Raymonde, who certainly qualifies as a Girl on Fire, even if she is not the protagonist and she has had to abandon girlhood for survival. Instead, she is a character embedded in a community and a touchstone for connecting the past with the future. She is eight years old when the flu pandemic strikes and she survives a number of dangers on the road as a child and lives a kill or be killed existence into adulthood. She is an important Girl on Fire—one who has to fight for her life and to protect others as well as one who helps to sustain art through her Shakespeare performances and her role in the traveling symphony. Kirsten’s story unfolds on a new horizon.

Like most every good book, Station Eleven leaves the reading wanting more. We are left out of some conversations while we are privy to others. We are left with questions about characters who are briefly highlighted and then disappear into the backstory. We are left with questions about what happens next. The loop of the past closes while the road to the future is left wide open.

While I have enjoyed many novels considered “classics,” and many books in the capitol-L literature category, young adult dystopian literature is my go-to for pleasure reading. As I explain in my forthcoming book, Girls on Fire: Transformative Heroines in Young Adult Dystopian Literature, my obsession with YA dystopia became the subject matter for a class and for a book. And as I argue in both these settings, YA dystopia’s Girls on Fire provide a powerful lens for thinking about the future. But the stories of girls in the worlds of YA dystopia often share important similarities with their counterparts in dystopian Literature.

In Girls on Fire I analyze some of the similarities and differences, connections and inspirations, between and among young adult dystopian literature and dystopian Literature by women.* Several of these adult books feature teenage protagonists—usually just at the cusp of adulthood. In addition to the books I write about in Girls on Fire (like California by Eden Lepucki as well as In the Heart of the Valley of Love by Cynthia Kadohata), there are several interesting contemporary examples of adult dystopian stories that center not-quite-yet-adult protagonists like Memory of Water (2012; 2014 in the U.S.) by Finnish author, Emmi Itäranta and America Pacifica (2011) by Anna North.

Our vague cultural markers, like the age of eighteen, supposedly imbue a teenager with adult status though the reality of adulthood does not hinge on this marker. In the realm of dystopia, our protagonists have adult responsibilities and adult worries beginning in childhood, but they are often ignorant in the bigger picture of their society—the ways in which the past has shaped the present and the ways in which power and corruption have done the shaping. Becoming an adult—in both YA dystopia and adult Literature—means having the blinders removed and finally seeing reality for what it is, not what we have been brainwashed to believe.

This is the case in both Memory of Water and America Pacifica. In the former, the protagonist has been interning as Tea Master, an ancient profession reserved for men. Noria is almost through her training when her world shifts; her father dies, her mother moves away, and she is left to protect and discover secrets that change the course of her life as well as her community. In America Pacifica, Darcy lives in a world that revolves around her mother and their bare level of subsistence. When her mother disappears, she is left to uncover the secrets her mother has kept, secrets that not only reveal her mother’s hidden past, but also the potential for revolutionary change for the oppressed of Darcy's world.

Both girls, who are also women, put into motion the possibility of change in their oppressive societies. Both societies have reached the point where extreme corruption and greed have made life unsustainable; both Girls on Fire influence the tipping point in an attempt to restore balance. For Noria, the price is death, which comes about mostly through lack of communication and misunderstanding. But she leaves behind key information that shifts the roles of power and possibility by revealing the government’s generations of lies. For Darcy, the price is losing her mother and almost losing her life as she helps to topple the corrupt regime and then follows her principles and sets out on a lonely, dangerous journey to find people on the mainland.

In both cases, there is much more work left to be done. Though circumstances force these girls to grow up—to take responsibility not just for themselves, but for their community—their coming of age is similar to the coming of age for a society or culture. That shift toward hope for something better happens, but more development is needed. It takes time to mature into adulthood just as it takes time for a society to mature into a just, free, equal community. Girls on Fire survive their toxic, abusive, violent societies and spark progressive change. They provide inspiration and incentive for us to do the same.
 
*The main difference between young adult dystopian novels is the role of sex and romance. Typically, there is far more sex and far less romance. This is the case in America Pacifica where Darcy has very little experience outside of her life with her mother, but has still made out with a number of boys and agrees to have sex with a guard to get the information she needs. This is not, however, the case in Memory of Water where there is no sex and no romance besides the hint of love disguised as friendship.

I've been enjoying designing yoga classes around different themes and ideas--like yoga for snow sports or my new "Yoga Outside the Box" series I will be offering at Shanti Yoga Studio in March--and finally got around to writing about one of my favorite themes, the 2016 Bangor Pride Festival theme, “Bye Bye Binary.”

The "Bye Bye Binary" theme inspired me to design a special yoga class on the subject of binaries--that tendency in our culture to think of everything as either/or. I offered this class to a group of people fairly new to yoga, many who attended my three previous weeks of gentle yoga classes, which gave a solid foundation in the basics of yoga. As I have been thinking about yoga and feminism, I was inspired to share my approach here and to expand it to other classes that I teach.

The ideas I write about here were woven together with movement designed to reinforce the ideas. The ideas are complex, but they can be broken down in classes to be more accessible and, like yoga, to be a life-long learning process.
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In my work in American studies and Women’s and Gender studies, binaries are unpacked. Things we think about as being opposite are complementary. They are not polar opposites, they are two sides of the same coin. However, our culture tends to value one side of that binary, giving it power over its subordinate. Men are considered superior to women. White is seen as preferable to black. Straight is normal; gay is wrong. We are often uncomfortable with ambiguity.

Yoga, which roughly means union, is the perfect prism for breaking apart the binaries that can hold us back from feeling whole and connected. Yoga comes with its own inherent binary: mind/body, though we might add “spirit” to break up that binary. And in our culture, the mind is seen as having control over the body. This control is seen as an ideal and this narrow idea shapes how people are valued in our culture. For instance, people who are overweight are seen as having a lack of self conrtol. Our bodies dictate many of our opportunities. Our mind is influenced by the contradictions of our culture, and our mind impacts the health and well-being of our bodies.

How often does our mind allow us to love our own body, to be at peace with our body? Yoga gives us tools to find that peace, and part of this is about letting go of our preconceived notions of the limits and possibilities of our bodies. Yoga gives us perspective; it connects us to our breath and helps us find our mental and physical edges. It gives us the literal and figurative space to stretch and expand. Our mind and our body work together.

There are other binaries that yoga can help us break, clear, or heal: male/female, man/woman, masculine/feminine. Gender is not an either/or choice as much as our culture would have us understand it as one, though this is changing. And while the tradition of yoga is also based on this gender binary, and many classes are dominated by women, yoga is not gender specific.

When we breathe consciously, we are practicing yoga. In yoga we can be warriors—the survivor, the fighter that needs no gender. We fight for our cause and for the people who cannot fight for themselves. Men can be more in touch with their emotions and more open to the power of the feminine. Any body can participate in the movements that comprise yoga. There are options and variations that meet us where we are at that moment.

In terms of sexuality, binaries of gay/straight, or even the binary of bisexual, fixes sexuality rather than recognizing the fluidity of sexual affection, attraction, and action. Yoga can help us learn to focus and connect; it raises our awareness of our body. There are many poses and ideas in yoga that are focused on fostering healthy sexuality. The second chakra is thought to regulate the mind and body aspects of sexuality. And energy knows no gender.

Yoga helps us to take care of our minds and our bodies, to not give too much of ourselves and to practice self-care and self-love. We can see the self as a part of something bigger, but also better sense the permeable boundary between us the and the wide universe that surrounds us—the endless universe that we can never know. We do not have to choose between one binary; we can choose among the limitless possibilities.

And if this all sounds too good to be true or too scary to try, I would have thought so once. Yoga is many things and not everything I describe here will be found by everyone who practices yoga or with every yoga experience. In fact, most yoga classes will not unveil the power of yoga to break binaries. Like everything else, knowledge, practice, and an open mind are some of the necessary tools to chips away at the binaries that define and confine us.
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[Side note on yoga and gender: As I noted in a previous blog, I attended a Kundalini yoga class at a conference where a popular yoga personality gave us an option to choose one particular hand mudra (position) if we were a woman and another if we were a man. This position was supposed to be held with intense breathing for an extended period of time while periodically chanting along with the music. I changed from one to the other periodically wondering what I would do if I were questioning or genderqueer. Through my movements I felt like I was balancing the masculine and feminine that work together, and I wished I had the knowledge to challenge the instructor. As it was, I probably interrupted the energy flow of our collective ecstasy. But, such rebellion in the face of gendered yoga experiences is important for breaking binaries.]

Well, I guess I better let the cat out of the bag. … Not that I would ever keep a cat in a bag, of course. I mean I love cats, so I would if I could, but….

You see I am totally stalling for a few reasons…

First, this news that I am breaking still feels a bit unbelievable to me.

Second, it is really hard for me to tell my students and colleagues that I will be away not just for the spring semester sabbatical that I am currently enjoying, but also for a new opportunity that I have accepted.

So, here it is:
For the academic school year 2018-2019, I will be the Fulbright Danish Distinguished Chair at the Center for American Studies, University of Southern Denmark in Odense. This means, I will not be teaching at UMA during the academic school year.

I will, however, be teaching for UMA this summer and next summer, so there’s that.

Despite that I applied for this Fulbright back in August, the news that I was selected was a bit of a shocker. With each application update I was sure that I would receive a rejection at any time. I was kind of looking forward to rejection because it would make my life far less complicated.

But I also told my dean, colleagues, family, and friends that of course I would get this Fulbright because I feel so completely unprepared for it at this current juncture in my life. But, I guess that we are never fully prepared for the opportunities that life throws at us. So, to add to my sabbatical list of projects: I will be getting prepared to spend next year living, teaching, and researching in Denmark.

Thus, my adventures (and blogging) will continue beyond my sabbatical project/adventure and into my Fulbright year abroad. … But until then, there is much to explore!

To say I am a feminist yoga instructor feels redundant. However, it is important to make this distinction more clear given the vast array of approaches to feminism and the similarly vast array of approaches to practicing yoga. Both are contested, commercialized, conflicted.

Being a feminist yoga teacher means being more than a feminist and more than a yogi. There are many overlapping aspects of yoga philosophy and feminist theory and pedagogy, but a yoga teacher is not necessarily a feminist unless they embrace the complexity of social and cultural systems and help the individual navigate this reality using yoga’s tools.

For instance there are strains of yoga that believe in the pure, unadulterated power of positive thinking. If you visualize it, meditate on it, and get out of your own way, you can have it. They even go so far as to say that you can acquire riches through visualization and meditation.

Further, if you get enough people together to meditate, they can change the world simply through the vibrations of meditation. However, in a social and cultural system that is based upon oppression, visualization and meditation is not enough. Power and privilege shape our lives in ways that we, as individuals, cannot control. We have to work together to change these systems and no amount of meditation or vibration can make these changes.

Both of these ideas are simplistic and some yogis would accuse me of being too cynical to appreciate the nuances of spiritual power. However, I am a realist and an optimist. I know there is power in yoga. I have felt this power—or some of this power, at least. Yoga and meditation can be transformative, but if we wait around for some kind of magic to happen (especially on a global scale), we are simply being naïve.

Thus, the power of critical thinking that comes with feminism is an important aspect of feminist yoga. However, it’s not like this is an easy aspect to work in among the asanas (physical poses/practice) of a yoga class. I often sneak this critique into the music and into some of the things I say during class.
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As I think more about what a feminist yoga teacher is and what that teacher does that is similar and different from other approaches to yoga (one of my many sabbatical projects!), a few initial thoughts are floating around…. Some of these are overlapping and there is a lot more to unpack here…

A feminist yoga teacher empowers students, activating awareness and providing space for discovery. This might be awareness, empowerment, and discovery on an individual level, but it might also extend beyond the individual, into culture or community.

A feminist yoga instructor is aware of gender dynamics and is concerned with power dynamics. They understand the connections and contradictions of the individual and the structural. For instance, while yoga in the West is often dominated by women participants and instructors, it still suffers from the impacts of patriarchy. I have heard and read many accounts of sexual assault that have happened during yoga classes; for instance, a male instructor who would kiss women during savasana (final relaxation). The sacred space of the yoga studio is not always safe for women.

A feminist yoga instructor is informed by intersectional feminist theory as well as interdisciplinary yoga traditions. Simple, one-dimensional approaches to feminism, or to yoga, are incomplete and act to obscure the ideas and the practice.

A feminist yoga instructor has an awareness of the limitations and possibilities of the body and mind that is grounded in an understanding of anatomy and kinesiology as well as their own embodied experience. A feminist yoga instructor teaches from their body while recognizing the limitations and possibilities of the bodies in the room. Participants are encouraged to strive for challenge and ease depending upon a variety of factors.

A feminist yoga instructor makes interventions toward transformation—of individuals as well as institutions.

A feminist yoga instructor recognizes the diverse spiritual aspects that are experienced through yoga and honors this diversity.

A feminist yoga instructor understands trauma—its impacts on the mind/body and the tools that can help to heal.

A feminist yoga instructor values process and suspends judgement. They continue to learn and grow in their practice as well as their teaching.

A feminist yoga instructor understands consciousness as both critical/oppositional as well as transcendental.

A feminist yoga instructor challenges gender stereotypes and recognizes the natural balance of femininity and masculinity as well as the socially constructed foundations of these natural phenomena. For instance, when taking a Kundalini yoga class we were told to do a certain hand mudra (position) if we were female and a different one if we were male. I switched my hand mudra several times throughout the exercise and wondered if there was anyone in the room experiencing discomfort at the idea of choosing a hand mudra based upon sex/gender. I try to emphasize the feminine and masculine characteristic that we all have and the importance of balance.

A feminist yoga instructor encourages and models self-care, sets aside ego, and taps into community.
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Feminist Yoga
Happens in community
Utilizes an awareness of structure and personal navigation
Emphasizes process
Calls for patience
Develops empathy
Increases mental flexibility
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These ideas represent the early stages of further research, thinking, teaching, practicing. It might just be that feminist yoga is just yoga taught consciously and responsibly. Or, perhaps feminism has something to offer the development of yoga in the West and we are just starting to tease out the possibilities.

One of the women in my YogaFit Warriors training wore a tank top on day two that said: “Peaceful Warrior.” She said that she had found it in her closet and it seemed appropriate. A veteran in our group said: “No one loves peace more than a warrior.” In my American Studies courses, with a diverse cross-section of veterans and civilians, I would have to agree.

In my work as a professor of American Studies, I teach about state violence—war, the prison industrial complex, poverty, structural racism—and the ways in which individuals and communities (and our nation and our world) are impacted. In my introduction to American studies this last fall, one of the students had a particularly difficult time with this material because her husband was currently deployed. It is not easy to read about the lies, the history, the patterns, and the hypocrisies of war, let alone when a loved one is on the front lines.

And, yet, the veterans I have had in my classes over the years have been some of the most critical thinkers and some of the quickest to see through the propaganda and lies—not only about war, but about American history, culture, and society.

Veterans need tools to help them reintegrate into society—to heal the wounds of war. In addition to tools for personal transformation (like those provided by YogaFit for Warriors), tools for critical thinking are also important. It might not be easy to face the truths of American war; it is certainly not easy to face the realities of American war. And America does not do enough to take care of its veterans, which is why we so need programs like YogaFit for Warriors.

It holds true here as much as anywhere else: we have to deal with our own shit before we can help other people deal with theirs. We have to deal with our own daemons before we might feel ready to fight the daemons with power. Healing the body and mind must happen before we can heal the nation.

I don’t have children. I don’t plan to have children. And I don’t spend a lot of time with children. So, I was not looking forward to choosing one of the two required classes to complete my 200 hour yoga certification: Prenatal or kids. I chose based upon availability. Because most of my fitness teaching happens at the YMCA, and because pregnancy pretty much grosses me out, I was glad that it worked out to complete my YogaFit for Kids training in Palm Springs this January.

In the past, I have been asked to teach yoga for kids and I have filled in for instructors for kids’ dance classes. Working at the YMCA, it was only inevitable that I would teach yoga to kids in some way, shape, or form. I did a yoga session for the Martial Arts Kids Camp that did not go very well. A few kids were into it; the rest pretty much ignored me. This was not totally unlike teaching adults, but adults tend to want to do exactly what the instructor is doing.

I was also asked several times to teach yoga to kids, but declined (or deferred) because of my busy schedule. I also declined because I had no idea how to make yoga friendly to kids. I had a few ideas about how to use animal poses to engage kids, but from there my imagination failed me.

The biggest challenge for me in the Kids training is that because I don’t spend a lot of time with kids, I have forgotten the markers of childhood—the aspects of learning and the permission to play. After taking Yoga Fit for Kids, I finally have a clue. I’m not saying that I plan to run out and teach yoga for kids. But I better see the value in teaching yoga to kids. Besides the benefits of relaying tools for managing stress and regulating emotions, I understand the role that stories play and the ways that games can be used to engage kids in yoga.

I also saw many parallels in my mind/body fitness dance as well as the other training I took in Palm Springs—Yoga For Warriors: PTSD. In mind/body fitness dance, we encourage participants to play and (re)discover their bodies while connecting to their minds. In Warriors and kids yoga we let participants find their way into a pose. We downplay the alignment cues and let them find ease and comfort in each pose.

I try to incorporate elements of play and ease into all my yoga classes. I try to give my participants structure and freedom.  I try to teach them new things—new ideas, new poses, new sequences. At my YogaFit Kids training, I was reminded how important these elements are in yoga, and life, more generally. Play and ease are aspects of yoga that we should all embrace—even if we aren’t tapping into our inner child.

For many years, Betty attended almost all of my cardio fitness classes at the Bangor YMCA. When I met her, she was in her early 70s and she would hold her own with the younger women in the room. She would wear her uniform: old-school leotard and tights in a variety of bright colors, often with a sparkly belt or headband or a ring with a flashing light. She liked to dress up.

The YMCA was Betty’s social time and she had many friends in class. We often told Betty how inspirational she was to us. We would sing for her birthdays, and class was never really the same without Betty there. And Betty made her presence known—through her loud voice as well as her generosity. If Betty didn’t like something, she told you. But, if Betty liked something, she would also tell you.

And Betty liked—loved—sweets. After (almost) every class, Betty would have a piece of chocolate for me and for the other instructors and some of the participants, depending upon how much chocolate she came with. Most often she gave us the Dove chocolates with inspirational sayings. Sometimes the treat was mini-sized candy bars like Baby Ruth or Snickers. Sometimes she had caramel and chocolate. Sometimes she would bring an orange or a pear or a piece of homemade banana bread. She would apologize if she came to class empty-handed, a very rare occurrence.

For years, Betty would tell me that she was not feeling well and that she was going to try to make it through class. But, if she left early, she didn’t want me to worry. Until recently, Betty never left class early. She stuck it out for the entire class and often did some extra planks. When she left class, she would tell me that she hoped to see me next time. Most often, she did.

If Betty didn’t like something, she would not do it. And she would be sure to tell you that she didn’t like it. For instance, Betty liked the dance classes best. She hated kickboxing. Sometimes I would throw in some punches during my mixed-cardio classes. She would do the punches and then tell me how much she hated that part of class. If she was really unhappy, she would let me know by not giving me a piece of chocolate after class.

In fact, Betty complained about a lot of things. Almost every day she would have a new complaint to share with me. Often it was complaints about her chronic illness; for decades she battled COPD and also suffered from vertigo and heart problems as well as the occasional ankle injury (which rarely kept her away for long). But she would also complain about the YMCA policies, like being required to have her debit card on file for the automatic payment plan. Regardless of the complaint, I would listen and nod my head until she was finished. Sometimes (rarely) I could help resolve the issue. When she complained that she ate too much ice cream or cake in the middle of the night, I would praise her for such actions and encourage her to eat whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted it.

She also liked to complain about the other fitness instructors. She told me on many occasions that the other instructors are great girls, but that she and I were just on the same rhythm. The way I taught seemed to work for her. Even when I was delivering the same choreography, Betty liked the way I delivered it. But, I also catered to Betty’s requests. For instance, the rope lights bothered her and she preferred the room bright. We compromised and I would turn off the rope lights, but I would not turn on all the overhead lights. When I would have to miss a class, I would be sure to let Betty know, if only to spare the sub from her wrath.

But Betty also showed me her appreciation outside of my fitness classes. For years she would send me cards for St. Patrick’s Day and Halloween. When the holiday fell during her time in Arizona for part of the winter, she would often write me long notes about her Jazzercize classes and the dry weather. At Halloween time she would often send me a card and a couple of crisp dollar bills so that I could get myself a treat. She always remembered my birthday and once she even brought me one of her favorite frozen cakes—a coconut cake that was so delicious that I ate almost the entire thing and had to throw the rest in the trash to stop myself (which was only marginally helpful).
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This year, Betty passed away on my birthday, January 27. I was expecting the bad news. When I left town in December, I had not seen her at class for the last couple of months. This was not too unusual; despite her regular attendance, she would often miss a stretch of time for health or travel reasons. But, this absence felt different. For the last year or so, I had seen her health deteriorate. She lost weight (which she did not need to do). She had trouble making it through a whole class and would actually leave early more often than not. I got in touch with her husband to check up on her and the situation did not sound hopeful.

For years she told us that coming to classes was what was keeping her alive. And it was true. It was not only the physical exercise that helped her clear her lungs, it was also the community. When Betty wasn’t there, we missed her.

And so, even though I am away from home and I haven’t taught a cardio class in more than 40 days, I will miss Betty. I will remind myself of her spirit and her love of sweets. I will eat all the cake and ice cream I want. I will speak my mind and I will try to remember to be kind and grateful. I will remember how important it is to keep going, to push through the limitations that our bodies set. I will remember how important it is to tell people what we appreciate about them. I will keep on dancing, for myself as well as Betty.

A foundational question asked of all sci-fi fans: Star War or Star Trek? Of course, there is no need to choose. And if you had asked me a few days ago, I would have answered Star Trek without hesitation.

Despite being a professor of popular culture (more or less) I am never current on popular culture. Even the stories I love best are rarely seen before they come to DVD. When I watched the Hunger Games films, after much anticipation, I fell asleep every time. I could stay awake on re-watches, but I hate to admit that I did not make it all the way through Mocking Jay part two until a few months ago.

I wanted to stay awake only to see what choices they made at the end of the film, and whether these choices matched my thesis in my forthcoming book, Girls on Fire: Transformative Heroines in Young Adult Literature. They did. I could have said a lot more in my book about the way in which this ending illustrates just how much the absence of the voice and countercultural strength of Katniss makes the movies a rather empty and superficial representation of Katniss.

But such a critique does not ultimately matter because our culture is not ready for the voice and force of Katniss. It might just be enough to have the equal presence of girls and women in films to start making a dent in the patriarchal strangle-hold on popular culture representations.

Which brings me back to Star Wars. After the disappointment of the new Star Wars films, I did not pay much attention to the newer Star Wars films. I heard echoes of strong female protagonist, but I did not pay much attention. I hadn’t had a chance to watch The Force Awakens until visiting my sister and her family at the beginning of my sabbatical this winter.

We watched the film with plans to go see the new release of The Last Jedi in the theater during our visit. At first I was not excited about this plan, and I watched the film out of the corner of my eye while finishing breakfast. But soon I was hooked, with my eyes glued to the screen. I had found another Girl on Fire.

But Rey, as a Girl on Fire, is only the most obvious aspect of this film’s feminist activism. (And she is totally awesome.) Girls and women pepper the second film in a variety of roles. Women are old and young. Good and evil. They are leaders and heroes. They solve problems and they make mistakes. They are present. They are stock characters. They are role models.

Such representation is exactly what I argue and illustrate in Girls on Fire: Transformative Female Protagonists in Young Adult Literature. We don’t look to girls to lead us—in the present or the future—because we have not been given the opportunity to see girls and women outside the narrow confines of sex symbol and side story.

Before the film began, there were a variety of sci-fi themed films with Girls on Fire at the helm. There were, of course, plenty that did not feature girls at all, but we don’t have to be and do everything. We just have to get the opportunity to be seen as equals, to be equals as the norm rather than as the exception.

The Baby Boomer generation is having trouble accepting equality as fact. Generation X is trying to live within contradictions. But we can see hope when we see that the next generations see women in the world at every turn and in every position. Girls and women are the phoenix rising from the ashes of a world that has silenced us for too long.

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.

In my forthcoming book, Girls on Fire: Transformational Heroines in Young Adult Literature, I conclude by considering “Utopic Visions for Dystopian Realities.” While the constant storm of Trump’s Presidency makes my book relevant in many ways, the recent news around Steve Bannon is exactly what I address in my conclusion. Below is an excerpt from my book. In fact, this is the end of my book. We all need a little hope; and we definitely need to talk more about a vision of the future where social justice has shaped our lives, culture, country, and world.
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In his speech to his supporters at the Democratic Convention in Philadelphia, on July, 25, 2016, Bernie Sanders passionately declared that “We want nothing less than the transformation of American Society.” His message was timely, and especially appealed to young people. While it is clear that Bernie’s vision of transformation is progressive—it seeks equality and justice and an end to racism, sexism, homophobia, and all those other liberal policies—exactly what this transformed society looks like, is not clear. Nor is it easy. It will take work—a kind of world-building. This is the work of the future.

Meanwhile, similar words can have a different vision. Heather Digby Parton writes, “[Steve] Bannon is a radical white nationalist whose main objective, as he has openly admitted, is to blow everything up — essentially to destroy the existing social and political order.” In his first public appearance after Trump’s election, Bannon reiterates the “unending battle for ‘deconstruction of the administrative state’” (Rucker). Bannon’s words are more radical, but they do not sound all that different from Bernie Sanders’s words. Radicals on the left have also used the language of, for instance, blowing up the establishment. These are words that can inspire the disenfranchised (for instance, black people) as well as those who perceive themselves as being disenfranchised (for instance, white nationalists). Bannon’s words alone do not reveal the sinister motives and ideologies behind them that are so different from what Bernie Sanders’ words mean. After Bannon blows everything up, Parton continues, “What that leaves us with after the smoke clears is anyone’s guess, since he is notably vague on the endgame.” Here too, the future is uncertain. The vision of the future, after leaving the “existing social and political order” in ruins is vastly different for Bernie Sanders compared to Steve Bannon, but neither future is spelled out.

We might understand these two futures in the terms of Utopia vs. Dystopia. Bernie’s future is a utopia. We have a difficult time finding utopia in the U.S. and in our fiction—one person’s utopia is another’s dystopia and utopia can quickly turn to dystopia. Using YA dystopia as a lens is far more helpful. For instance, the futures that Girls on Fire navigate are always a result of forces that are already in process—the environment, our global health, political corruption, social chaos. The world that Bannon seeks to create is the world we find in YA dystopia. In fact, Bannon is a perfect model for almost any of the evil hegemons as well as the corrupt power structures we find in YA dystopia’s fictional futures. He has been compared to Darth Vader and Satan and has said in response, that “darkness is good” (Tani). But these comparisons might be giving him too much credit. His attempts to impose chaos might not be effective, and can remind us that, as Dustin McKissen argues, “If what we are looking at is a government with no one at the wheel, then this is an opportunity for each of us to step up and take our places as the real authors of history.” And if the person, or people at the wheel are pure evil, as they often are in YA dystopia, we need Girls on Fire even more.

Utopia has its value toward imagining more, but dystopia reminds us of the urgency of the present. Rebecca Solnit notes that transformations “begin in the imagination, in hope” (4). Dystopia keeps us accountable, reminds us of our collective responsibility. Dystopia even gives us hope, perhaps a more realistic vision of hope than utopia. Solnit describes hope in ways that mesh with dystopian stories: “Hope just means another world might be possible, not promised, not guaranteed” (4). Dystopia does not take for granted the progress of the past because this progress has, at least in part, shaped the dystopic world. Girls on Fire know that if they fail to act nothing will change. Solnit continues, “To hope is to give yourself to the future, and that commitment to the future makes the present inhabitable” (4). Girls on Fire are a source of hope; and we all have a stake in the future. But we also have to live in this world and keep it “inhabitable” for the future.

When the lights go out, who will be left to find a new source of light, to discover that human element of fire again?

The Girls on Fire are keeping the fire burning, stoking the fire and keeping watch to ensure that we don’t burn out or burn up.

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.

I officially began my yoga journey in 2005. I had taken a few yoga classes before I took my Level 1 training with YogaFit, mostly a summer session that my friend taught to the only two people who showed up (me and my husband). I regularly taught a variety of cardio classes and had taken a Pilates training program, but I still thought that yoga was just a bunch of stretching (and some woo-woo stuff I had little interest in). I took the training mostly because the Washington State University Student Recreation Center paid for me to go. My fitness perspective was changed forever. . . . But my yoga practice is still slowly evolving, mostly through my teaching.

This slow evolution is part of the point of YogaFit; they want you to take what you learn and practice and apply it, coming back for more when you’re ready. Many of the women I have met at YogaFit trainings find YogaFit and compete their 200-hour training certification in a few years. I have been working on my hours for about 12 years. My road has not been so direct. I have wavered from the YogaFit path because of the demands of my career in academia or my doubts in my ability and desire to fully commit to yoga. I have had to process and practice what I have learned at trainings—to teach it and integrate new ideas into my classes (amid my multiple other professional and personal obligations).

YogaFit has grown exponentially since I started my training. The depth and nature of the programming has also changed. When I began, there was much more of a fitness focus and in addition to the five levels, there were programs like YogaButt that were targeted to health club audiences. While it maintains the accessibility of “yoga for every body,” and makes yoga accessible to populations like my local YMCA, YogaFit provides a solid basis in yoga philosophy and tradition. It also encourages adaptation and innovation—permission to play and encouragement to take yoga beyond preconceived notions.

Today, YogaFit offers a 200-hour training and an additional 300-hour training (which qualifies for Yoga Alliance's 500-hour certification) as well as a 100-hour certification for YogaFit Warriors and a Health track (formerly YogaFit therapy). These programs are oriented toward not only teaching content, but also teaching how to teach and to integrate ideas from training into personal practice. The trainers I had—just two of the whole team—were amazing. Kelly Gardner brought wisdom and perspective from her work in the field of mental health (and was funny and full of practical accessible examples) and Sandi Cartwright was an excellent teacher, grounded and wise with a wealth of knowledge and a foundation of experience in the world of fitness.

Further, YogaFit offers a supportive community—the #YogaFitFamily that can be found at the Mind/Body Fitness Conferences across the U.S. and increasingly in social media spaces. Its emphasis on teaching and its commitment to community, as well as the ways it empowers women, has brought me back to YogaFit.

I never thought that I would do my 200-hours. There was a 5-year break between taking levels 1 through 3 and taking Level 4. I took Level 4, in part, because I was working on my book, Women and Fitness in American Culture, and felt I needed more training to make some of the arguments I was making. After taking the Level 4 training, I thought I had had enough. I learned a lot over the four days of training, but I never even thought I would take Level 5 training (the final “level” in the 200-hour certification). Level 4 included a lot of elements of traditional yoga, and I didn’t really see the relevance to my daily teaching.
In the five years since taking Level 4, I have explored some other yoga venues like the Yoga Journal Live conference in New York, and I have learned a lot of things that I have integrated into my teaching, largely because of the foundations that YogaFit gave me. In fact, what I learned from Bo Forbes in her workshops inspired me to pursue yoga further. So, I found myself back at YogaFit.

I also found myself back at YogaFit because I recently decided that I wanted to complete my 200-hour training, mostly because I wanted to further pursue my academic work in fitness, and in interdisciplinary approaches to yoga specifically. To be taken seriously, I thought, I needed at least my 200-hour certification (500 hours still seems out of reach!). So, while I found myself at the YogaFit Mind/Body Conference in Minneapolis for practical reasons, the full circle of yoga gave me so much more. Most of all, it gave me positive reinforcement of what I know, what I teach, and how important this work is to me and to my communities.

While I still struggle with some of the “woo-woo” of yoga, I can’t ignore the many connections and synchronicities that yoga generally, and YogaFit specifically, have made for me. My four days of training—one-day of Pranayama: The Science and Practice of Breath and Cultivating Prana, one day of Meditation and Mindfulness, and two days of Level 5: Integration—illustrated that I have absorbed so much more of yoga (and YogaFit) than I realized and reinforced the power of yoga in my teaching and my need to continue to develop my personal practice.

Through the conversations and connections with women who teach yoga, to the ideas and practices we explored, I returned home renewed, rejuvenated, empowered, and grounded. . . . And with new ideas, new tools, new visions, new inspirations, and new possibilities.
 
More on the development of my teaching and personal practice in part two….

Last August I was contacted by a reporter from an Australian magazine writing about the rise of feminist fitness. First of all, how exciting is it to hear that feminism has been visible enough in fitness that it would inspire an article about the trend!? Of course, she is also from Australia, where this trend is a lot more visible. Many of the best sources on feminist fitness that I found while doing research for my book, Women and Fitness in American Culture, came from outside the U.S. But, a few weeks ago I was contacted by a writer from the Associated Press who covers fitness and she was working on a feminist fitness article as well. So, I guess rather than having this blog continue to sit in my inbox, I might as well put it out there! Below I include the Australian reporter's questions and my answers....
 
What role does feminism play in fitness?
Feminism can play several roles in fitness. A lot of times the role it plays is in thinking about women's strength. We might imagine that as women become physically stronger they will also become stronger in other spheres like politics. However, this is not exactly what I mean when I write about or think about feminist fitness. The direct correlation is not there. While women might feel more empowered through weight lifting and strength-building, just as many (if not more) women are afraid of getting too "bulky" and, thus, not being seen as feminine. Female athlete at the top of their sports even struggle with this fear. So the biggest role that feminism can play in fitness is to say that being healthy, happy, fit, strong, etc. can be achieved through any variety of fitness activities. Fitness isn't one thing, but it is feminist when it is about a whole body and whole person approach.
 
Has there been a shift away from the "bikini body" towards female empowerment in the fitness industry?
I'd like to say that there has been this shift, and perhaps if we think about it in terms of the fitness industry, then, yes, I'd say there is a shift from the "bikini body" to the strong, functional body--the kind of body that can run marathons or compete in Ninja Warrior-style competitions. But, at the same time, female empowerment is often sold as a part of a package of physical perfection. In terms of the images that promote fitness--in the industry and in pop culture and media more generally--I don't think we are there yet in terms of empowerment being more important than the "bikini body." We are still fed the correlation that strong (but not "big") is desirable and the bodies we see take a lot of time, effort, attention, and energy to maintain. When we see fitness as more of a way of life and less as a set of accomplishments, then we will be making this shift.
 
Why are we seeing a rise in feminist fitness bloggers and personal trainers?
There is a need for feminist fitness--in our fitness culture and in our personal lives. I think that women (and even men) can use the principles of feminism to take focus off of the superficial aspects of fitness and focus in on what is really meaningful and powerful. For instance, I've noticed a rise in blogs about being a mom and being a runner. Women are able to focus on the things that their bodies can do rather than the impossible standards that the media set. So we see a rise in bloggers who share their personal struggles and frustrations as well as their successes. We also see a rise in women of color and "fat" women claiming space and recognition in the world of fitness. Feminism makes spaces for marginalized voices and experiences.
 
And feminist approaches to personal training can really revolutionize this sphere of fitness. Personal training is much more about building a relationship and trust between client and trainer. A trainer who listens to her client, who understands the client's fitness goals, who looks for a variety of activities that are enjoyable to the client, who instills realistic expectations and works to dispel fitness myths is going to be more successful than a trainer who sets out a program of repetitions and then pushes the client through these exercises toward a goal of weight loss, for instance.
 
Why is fitness a feminist issue?
Fitness is a feminist issue for so many reasons. Fitness is just one of the many activities that is represented in the media in narrow, stereotypical kinds of ways. Feminism challenges such representations. Fitness is about taking care of ourselves, but also taking care of the people we love and the world that we live in. We have to practice the feminist idea of self-care in order to be able to do this. If we want to eat healthy, organic foods then we need to be working to ensure that these foods are available and affordable. This means we need to think about climate change and agribusiness. If we want comfortable, affordable clothing and shoes for our workouts, then we need to be sure that women in other parts of the world are not being exploited to produce those goods for the first world. If we want women's bodies and minds to be safe from rape, sexual assault, and other forms of patriarchal violence, then we need to work to change the standards and expectations of masculinity. Fitness is not just an isolated, individualistic pursuit bolstered by privilege; it is a responsibility to ourselves and to the world.
 
Would you like to see more feminism in fitness?
Absolutely! I would love to stop hearing women say that they are too fat, too skinny, too whatever. I'd love for men to be more comfortable and willing to take group fitness classes or to try yoga--to not be afraid of being seen as less than a man because they enjoy Zumba or yoga. I would love to see people embracing fitness because it makes them feel good and makes them able to enjoy other aspects of their lives more fully. I would love to see women stop shaming other women about their bodies and to see us all stop equating fitness with superficial qualities and outward appearance. I would love to see people use the word feminist when they talk about fitness. But even if they don't use the word, the principles are there and they are transforming fitness for many people, just as feminism has transformed the world we live in.

“Fire is catching! And if we burn, you burn with us!”
—Katniss in Mockingjay

“And it would do nothing at all. It would change nothing at all. It would move no one at all, and so it really wouldn’t be art, would it?”
—June in The Summer Prince

“We were going to change how people think…. You can’t transform a society with violence, Ashala. Only with ideas.”
—Ember in The Interrogation of Ashala Wolf

American dystopia is a long-standing tradition, and Trump’s appearance on the scene of American politics has inspired many references to dystopia (like on The Daily Show with Trevor Noah and in liberal campaigns). But we have long been a dystopia in the United States, and many brilliant authors have shed light on this quality from a variety of angles. War, apocalypse, unchecked technology, disease, climate change, natural disaster, invasion, slavery, violence, reproductive slavery, sexual violence, decimation, devastation.

When we talk about American dystopia today, we talk about George Orwell. We talk about the classics. We talk about men and power and the end of the world. And Margaret Atwood’s A Handmaid’s Tale is back on the bestseller list and being made into a television series in Trump’s dystopia. We need to look to other stories as well. We need to tell more stories.

The major issues of our times point toward a country, and a world, that we can find in the books of Octavia Butler, Suzanne Collins, Sherri L. Smith, Ambelin Kwaymullina, and Alaya Dawn Johnson. Many “Girls on Fire” tell us stories that speak to intersectional futures—to multifaceted ideas, people, and movements and to the possibilities of change in many possible futures.
*
This collection seeks critical and creative explorations of dystopia: short stories, essays, graphic art, interviews, poems, testimonials, or any format that uses dystopia as a means for understanding the present moment. This collection seeks the stories, the images, the ideas and ideals of “Girls on Fire”—to inspire hope, vision, and action through the power of dystopic visions. To get us all through the fear, disappointment, anger, and anxiety.

Tell a compelling story that sheds light on our present moment and inspires us to work for a better future. Write a scathing commentary that exposes the problems of the present and the possibilities of the future. Capture a moment, an image that speaks to today’s dystopia. Imagine a manifesto, a moment, a movement. Create an image that moves us and makes us think. Use your arts—your mind and your heart and your skills and your training—to speak back to the present through the lens of tomorrow.

Imagine what the future of America looks like—30 days, 4 years, or several decades or centuries into the future. How has Trump’s reign shaped our cities, the country, the world? How have we been divided; how have we been united? What is the state of the climate, our social and cultural institutions? What dystopic future grows from the present moment? What challenges do people face? Where is there hope? What are Girls on Fire making from this future?

This collection is intended as a sort of companion piece to (working title): Girls on Fire: American Dystopia and Intersectional Futures, Sarah Hentges’ forthcoming book from McFarland Publishing, Inc. This book explores the ways in which young adult dystopian texts with female protagonists can inspire social justice. It considers foundations and possibilities. It looks to “Girls on Fire”—in fiction, and in life—to lead the way to a better future.

See http://www.cultureandmovement.com/ya-dystopia.html for more information about Girls on Fire: American Dystopia and Intersectional Futures

pdf call for submissions
5,000 words maximum. Images should be high quality.
Inquiries and ideas can be emailed to sarah.hentges@maine.edu
Submit to: sarahdwh8@gmail.com by January 20, 2018

Anyone who knows me knows that I pretty much never stop working. It is an aspect of my nature and a reality of my chosen profession. In the last few years, I have become more interested in the concept of self-care. I teach about it and I write about it. I practice it, but not as well as I should. Fittingly, what drives me most to practice self-care is the important model I can provide to my students and colleagues.

One thing almost everyone asked me on this trip, especially after they heard how many days we had been on the road, was: how did you get that much time off?!” I would usually tell them that it is actually a working vacation, followed up with a smile and: “can’t you tell that I am working right now?!” Of course this then requires further explanation about how I do a lot of teaching online and I had a conference in Denver and I said let’s just drive there and make a trip of it at the end of the semester and between semesters.

The unbelievable thing is that we actually did it. I did not get time off; I took time off. I still can’t quite believe that took two months away from my classes at the YMCA and my all-consuming job as a professor. For at least seven years, I have really only taken time off to do other work-related things (with the exception of a few stolen hours or a couple stolen days). This is not a good idea; it is not a good way to operate. Everyone needs to take some time away from whatever it is they devote their time to wholly and completely—teaching, parenting, serving, worrying.

Professors need to take time away from teaching; this is one of the reasons why the sabbatical was invented. The follow up question to how I got so much time—for those familiar with academic practice—was whether I was on a sabbatical. This question would make me laugh out loud. I should be on a sabbatical, but what I have arranged for myself if purely an act of desperation. I was getting burned out and I saw no foreseeable break if I did not make one for myself.

So, this trip was an act of self-care. I was able to find time and space. I was able to see things that I have been missing living in Maine—mountains, big trees, the Pacific Ocean, colorful houses, colorful people. I was able to take time away from work; I had to take time off of work since I cannot read or write in a moving vehicle. And with 11,000 miles in 60 days, there was plenty of time in the car to listen to music and audio books, to read maps and roadside signs.

But, because this was a working vacation and I am a thinking woman, this trip was also an exercise in professional development. I was able to sort priorities, dream of possibilities, cohere research, marinate ideas, reflect upon my purpose, discover new ideas, see new places, meet new people, learn new things. Since my primary field is American studies, I was able to think about the people and places I saw through the lens of American studies—to see the things that make American great and the things that make America not so great.

I have the privilege to be able to take a trip like this—and to take it when I am still at work. I have my newly-acquired tenure and a job with flexibility. I have professional development money that helped by paying for my conference expenses. I have friends and family that gave us food and shelter. I have a partner who prefers to drive and does so expertly. I have supportive colleagues who encouraged me to go on this trip. I don’t have children.

I have all of these privileges, which also come with a lot of responsibilities. These responsibilities grow to be all-consuming; they are heavy and can wear a person down. Even though I know that other people can carry the weight and I know that my fitness classes will be covered, it is difficult to let go of responsibilities. It is difficult to shift the core of my everyday existence into a new routine, to be a different version of myself. But it is necessary to step away from the everyday in order to continue to function under the weight of external, let alone internal, pressure.

So, I try to model this in my actions—in my leaving and returning renewed—and I offer this series of blogs in the hope that others will be inspired to practice self-care and professional development in doses, at least until time opens up or we have to crack it open out of desperation  and necessity.