That was my experience with Hurricane Ian. It was one of the scariest experiences I’ve ever had. And I’m not new to the Flordia life with hurricanes. But this one was scary.
I realize that some of my intensified fear could have to do with now living on the river where the threat of rising waters and storm surge is significant.
And also because I had an up close and personal view of Ian through my floor to ceiling Hurricane grade picture windows. Much of the time I hid in the back room with the curtains shut and my head under the covers because it was just too much to take in.
Dave on the other hand thought it best to watch it like a big screen tv with surround sound. He was afraid if he turned away for even a moment he’d miss seeing a threat coming our way.
The sound of the wind and the rain was like nothing I’d ever heard. Just howling and roaring all day and all night and all day again. And then there were the unidentified sounds. The thuds, the cracks, the scrapes that you could only imagine what was causing them. And it just wouldn’t stop. It just wouldn’t stop.
Our home became an island. Water surrounded us like a moat and we were standing precariously on the top. Our river now felt like the ocean with waves carrying white caps ferociously across our yard. We prepared for even higher ground because it just seemed inevitable that it would reach us. This is a relatively new house for me so I really had no experience to know how she would hold up. But she did. We stayed high and dry. Well mostly.
We had wind driven rain coming in from the windows and doors that faced the side of the house that got beaten for 30 hours straight. We had towels everywhere. And when they filled, we’d wring them out and put down a new batch. My hands actually hurt from the wringing. There was so much water. We were on constant watch like guards of a lighthouse to make sure it didn’t get away from us.
Finally, after relentless hours of Mother Nature testing us, the storm passed. We emerged out of the house like squirrels peaking out of their tree holes. Finally to see what the impact really was. To identify the thuds, and the cracks and the scrapes. The weather was cool and we even saw the sun come out that evening. Just a glimpse though. Teasing us and comforting us all at the same time. It was finally really over.
My neighborhood looked like a war zone. Devastation was everywhere. As far as the eye could see. Fallen trees, branches blanketing the ground, trash washed ashore, turned over boats and dock boards in the strangest of places. And water. Water everywhere. Barely a road to be seen. Everything was still covered with water.
I saw my neighbors emerging from their huddles having survived it just like us. We spoke to neighbors we hadn’t even met yet as if they had been at our dinner table for years. We started helping one another, pulling out the chain saws and lugging debris from the yard. We went to help family members and friends still without power. Empathy was every where.
Community is what happens after something like this. It’s really all we have. It’s what helps us heal.
In the midst of the storm, since I still had internet, I logged into my prescheduled class essentially in tears. I was already 20 hours into the storm of what was to be 30. I was exhausted and desperate.
One of my online students who lives up north asked, “Why don’t you just cancel?” I answered, “I’m not here for you. I’m here for me!” I was there to request prayers and support for me and all of us still in the midst of the storm.
We didn’t do asanas. We prayed. We spent time in community with the storm raging outside my walls. I was so grateful to all my students who were from out of the area that could be there for me and the other students that were in the path of Hurricane Ian. Community stepped up!
And now it’s my turn to offer community to you. As bad as my own personal losses are, I know there are others struggling more then I. The emotional and financial loss is going to be felt for months to come.
So let’s come together. Let’s do yoga together. Let’s pray and meditate together. Let’s hold space and offer support for one another. Let’s heal together.
Classes resume on Monday. Those of you that went through this like me, show up to receive. Those of you from out of the area, show up to give. Show up to connect with community. Show up to heal. Show up as you are.
Yoga is an anchor that can ground us, guide us, and support us. It’s time to hold on to that anchor.
If you’re a regular, please share class information with others that need support and community right now. And if it’s been awhile since you've practiced, check in to get recharged. Reach out to friends even if they’ve never done yoga. Just so we can be together and heal during this time of upheaval and stress. It’s complimentary to those in need. There’s no price tag for community.
To view a video reel on Instagram with a compilation of videos and images, click here. To follow me on Instagram, find me at @daytonayoga.
