Yoga Tales from Rural Maine: Yoga to Go

I was talking to a master yoga teacher the other day who does not live in Maine, and I was casually sharing some details of my teaching life here--and she was flabbergasted. 

I didn't realize until right then how unusual it is, but especially combined with my service with the Orland Fire Department, on any given day, I never know where I'll be dispatched. Some days I get called to fires or accidents as a first-responder; some days I get called to yoga. Every now and again, I get called to both.

"I hurt my back, can you come teach yoga?"
"My father died...can you come teach yoga?"
"My sister/grandchild/best friend is in town, can you come teach yoga?"
"My daughter eloped, can you come teach yoga?"
"My daughter's getting married...can you come teach yoga?"
"My son was released from prison...can you come teach yoga?"
"My niece is graduating. Can you come teach yoga?"

These are just some of the requests I have gotten. I teach so often that it isn't practical to load my gear in and out every day, so instead, I ride around prepared for anything. I have a "go bag" full of things I need as a first-responder; and a car full of yoga supplies. If you needed me to fight a wildfire, I could drop what I was doing and be on-scene and ready to go in minutes; ditto if you needed a yoga birthday party. 

I always keep enough yoga supplies in my car to teach up to 20 people yoga anywhere accessible by car. Along with water, snacks, sunglasses, safety glasses, leather boots, wildland turnout gear, reflective gloves, high-visibility tee-shirt, a change of clothes, my pager, a helmet, sunscreen, nitrile gloves, a flashlight, etc.

Because of the particular circumstances of my life in rural Maine, I have taught hundreds and hundreds of yoga classes--including one during a blizzard where I hiked through the snow to the end of my driveway and my students picked me up in their 4x4--but never once have I taught in a bonafide yoga studio. During one typical week this spring, for example, I taught in a living room in Bucksport, a kitchen in Penobscot, a meeting room at a health center in Bucksport (twice), a fire department (Orland), a cancer resource center (Ellsworth), and a front lawn in Brooklin.

All of this is made somewhat comical or maybe heart-warming, depending on your perspective, by my choice of vehicle. I am a roaming yoga gnome in a tiny little Ford Focus hatchback. In case there was any doubt that I am a firefighting yogi, I even have firefighter plates that say "OHMM." (Which electricians tend to think means I'm one of them, but which my fellow yogis get right away.) The whole car is so stuffed with yoga equipment and firefighting gear (and reusable grocery bags) that there is actually no room for anyone but me in the car. I recently had to give my 11-year old niece a ride and the only thing to do was to pull out a bunch of props, put her in the backseat, strap the seatbelt into place, and then pile the props on top of her. (She loved it.)

Many of us who teach practice what we call "yoga off the mat." We live our lives in ways that match our yoga philosophy; we practice not only with our bodies and our breath, but with our choices. I am this kind of yogi. In my case, selfless service (seva) is a priority; I am a karma yogi, which means my heart soars most when I engage in the action of selfless service (karma). This is why I serve with a volunteer fire department. No matter where I go--to teach, to fight a fire, to help an accident victim--yoga is literally my co-pilot.