Surprise Sabbatical: Day One

Just as we're all rather surprised when the meteorologists predict a snow storm that actually arrives on our peninsula, I had an unexpected opportunity to go away on my own again about two weeks ago. I had planned to stay in a lake house outside of Roanoke with some people, but two nights before we were meant to leave, the house was flooded. I had already arranged to teach yoga with the woman who trained me at her new studio in Blacksburg, so, rather than cancel on her, I decided to find another B&B and run away again.

I left on a Sunday with my dear friend Beth, driving her home to Charlottesville on my way to Blacksburg. Two hours is not enough for us, so we made plans to get lunch together when I came back three days later. She presented me with a lovely gift for my efforts in organizing our book club... a book to take with me entitled ALICE I HAVE BEEN by Melanie Benjamin. It's a novel based on the life of the "real" Alice Liddell... the little girl who served as Professor Dodgson's inspiration to become Lewis Carroll and create ALICE'S ADVENTURES IN WONDERLAND. Beth inscribed the book with her thanks... making it all worth it.

The drive to Blacksburg was similar to the long drive to Woolwine, though, perhaps less terrifying. Fewer mountains with tight curves. I thought about my friendships, about my own path, how so much is going to change so fast this year. Soon two of the girls around here with whom I spend time will be moving away... and I might be close behind them. I cried a little listening to Sarah Brightman's He Doesn't See Me. The lyrics depict a sort of Eponine/Marius set up... a decent person loves someone who seems to be unaware of her existence due to his love for another woman. It just reminded me of something that Joyce told me... about a time in her life when it was easy to misconstrue her friends' inattentiveness and distance for a lack of love and a desire to end their friendships. She said she later figured out that they were all going through their own new phases... demanding jobs, tough marriages, school troubles, etc.

My tears did not derive from the same sadness or broken-heartedness that Brightman intoned. It was more, perhaps, a loving acceptance. I care more than I tend to admit out loud about these people, and I know things are changing, have been changing. This is neither good nor bad (See what a good little Buddhist I can be with a few days away here and there?) but it's a break from comfy, reliable connections. With the stress of moving, making new connections, finding the better grocery stores, and fixing any home issues with your new living space, one must also make more effort to strengthen ties back where loved ones are wondering how things are. There's no one to call at a random moment to see if they have time for a coffee or feel like seeing a movie. You have to start over. That can be an adventure... it can also leave one longing somewhat for what was...

Well, we'll cross that bridge soon enough.

Still, I had these things on my mind when I finally drove into the parking area behind the new studio. My trainer had moved from Williamsburg last July; I hadn't seen her since September. I was about to walk into a new place containing someone who is a significant member of a special time in my past.

The studio itself is not particularly remarkable - but that works. She only has what she needs (and a really great line of clothing as it turns out... I hate clothes shopping, but I bought two pieces over the course of my working there). Bathrooms, laundry equipment and supplies, showers (nice big ones with decent water pressure... harder to come by than you might think), a lobby for signing in and holding people's belongings, and a large room with a long mirror for yoga practice.

We discussed the new studio, how business is going and whatnot as we signed in well over 20 students, my trainer included. The last time she took my yoga class was the very first time I taught on my own... which was a rocky ride. I completely forgot to instruct the commencing breathing exercise before every hot yoga class and out of a five part posture series, I forgot two parts. The rest of the class went pretty smoothly, but the damage was done. I was a little nervous to be in a new studio, new dimensions (that changes the direction in which you ask your students to turn depending on the posture), and teaching a class for my trainer for the second time in one year.

Teaching, of course, went fine. I've had plenty of practice thanks to my current studio on the peninsula. Teaching my trainer wasn't really that nerve-wracking either... but her flooring caused me a couple of unexpected difficulties. It's sort of like a very large, puffed up yoga mat. That makes demonstrating a posture off the mat a little tricky. It also sucks up the sound. I'm used to being able to hear my voice bounce back to me along with the breaths of the students. I couldn't hear a thing. I was as careful as I could be not to expose my unease. My trainer seemed proud of my progress, which was a pretty good feeling, I'll admit it. She and I made plans to go get dinner the following evening after I taught another class. I changed and dashed to the inn to make check-in time.

(from www.theoaksvictorianinn.com)

The Oaks Victorian Inn was only 15 minutes up the road in a little town called Christiansburg. The Innkeeper met me at the door and showed me around. Unwittingly, I had chosen the perfect room. My room was on the first floor of this beautiful three-story house, neither next to nor beneath any other room. It was quiet, private, perfect. The Innkeeper gave me the key to my room and the front door so I could come and go as I liked. I assured her I was wiped out and wanted nothing but to go to bed with my fruit and cheese plate. We said Goodnight and I shut my door.

I started to unload my things so I could shower and settle in. As I took out my toiletries, I flashed back to earlier that morning: I could smell the coffee in the main room. Beth and David were politely chatting as I was putting us behind schedule with my lack of packing skills. I decided not to take my usual overnight bag and just packed my yoga bag that I take with me to the studio to shower after class. I could see myself leaning over clumsily from the drowsiness over my things as I said in my head," Don't forget the travel toothpaste in your usual toiletries bag." I so rarely take my own advice...

So, my plans were rearranged. Some inns have emergency toiletries for you, but I'm weird about asking for things. I put my coat back on, slipped into my shoes, and walked out, locking the front door behind me. I got in the car and found a Kroger three minutes away on my GPS. I purchased toothpaste, a bottle of Californian viognier, a bottle stopper, an egg salad sandwich, and face wash (realized while out that I left that, too).

Back at the Inn, I showered, laid out a glass of wine, my fruit and cheese plate the Inn put together for me, and watched a stupid movie on the bed in a white, fluffy bathrobe. I was too tired to feel as spoiled as I should have felt. The canopy over my head was actually a delicate quilt blanket that just made everything cozier, warmer, easier to put me to sleep...