Well, at least not right now.
It’s been quite some time and a whole mess of changes since my last post. You know that person in your life – the one who has known you forever and been there through EVERYTHING? The one who has seen you at your ugliest (emotionally/mentally/physically) and still loved you no matter what? The person you consider your best friend and soulmate? Well, four days after my return from India, the health of the person who held that role in my life took a turn for the worse. So I spent six weeks cherishing every moment possible – laughing and crying with him about stories of our friendship over the last 28 years as well as sitting quietly, holding hands. And then he was gone.
In some ways, in the recesses of my brain, I convinced myself that if I didn’t write this post I wouldn’t have to face the reality of the situation. What I know is – blog post or not – the situation remains the same. So what to do? Turn to my mat. Before you roll your eyes and assume I’m going to write about how yoga healed me, keep reading. I practiced – a lot – at the studio, in my home, in the yard, almost anywhere – and no matter how many hours I practiced, my sadness was only quelled when focused on the asana. Problem was, as soon as I stepped off the mat, the feelings returned. Almost out of desperation, I pulled Pema Chodron’s When Things Fall Apart off my bookshelf. Re-reading this text hasn’t been easy but it has become the inspiration for meditation, my home practice and the classes I’ve taught. I can’t bring my friend back and I can’t make his absence less painful but I can breathe. I can use the practices described in the book such as inhaling the difficulty and exhaling joy. Such a simple exercise can be employed when I oversleep or am in a challenging yoga pose or stuck in gridlock traffic or when I see something that reminds me of my soulmate.
I’m putting some faith in Pema in an effort to prevent my emotional armor from building and in turn, allowing my heart to soften. Now I’m not saying that I will be able to do this with any sort of integrity, but when the waves of grief are crashing over me, instead of ducking so I avoid them completely, I will try to let them wash over me. I miss him so much and my heart will forever ache.
So, yes, at times I may fall apart and it’s ok.