I have been horrible about keeping up with this blog. I think of things all the time that I could write about, but haven't done it. I guess you write when you have a moment that truly transforms you, and tonight was it.
One of my regular students came to my 5:30 class tonight and said that she was a bit emotional this week so she may be working through some stuff on her mat. I told her that is of course ok - it's encouraged! She then went on to tell me that it was the anniversary of the death of her son. I said how sorry I was to hear that. She told me she had lost him 6 years ago when he was just 2 weeks old. It was a complete shock. He was born a healthy baby but contracted a bladder infection a few weeks later that killed him. I couldn't even imagine as she told me this how devastating this must have been. I told her that she was courageous to show up to her mat and she said she'd be lost without her yoga.
I was already planning to do a deep hip opening class with a special heart opening release at the end. It seems I already knew what she needed before she arrived. As we moved through class, I was definitely drawn to her but wanted to give her enough space to support herself on her own, but also enough attention to let her know I was there. You could feel everyone's energy syncing as we moved through practice and accessed the deeper parts of ourselves, peeling back layers, to reveal our raw yet tender hearts.
Before Savasana, we did something one of my favorite teachers did recently, but first when I was with him at Kripalu this past Feb and it was a major breakthrough. It seems simple enough. You sit with your arms by your side, and then slowly let your arms come up to touch palms, and then back again. But by slowly, I mean SLOWLY. The whole things takes at least 5 min, maybe more. Hands are extensions of the heart, and as you lift them, you feel the weight you've placed on your heart, and the layers you've placed over it to keep it protected. And as those palms slowly lift, it's an awakening of what you have had all along. This pure and tender heart, the beauty that is me, that is you. Our suffering and our joy. Everyone's experience is different but I could feel the energy shifting into complete surrender, and a lot of sadness. Sadness over what we've lost. But a joy over the simple fact that this heart still remains, and it can love.
After class, this student was sitting on her mat gently crying. I went up to her and wrapped my arms around her and she cried more. We were silent. And then I kissed her lightly on the cheek and told her THANK YOU. She had given me a gift by letting me share in her own process, her own grief. She had given us all a gift. I left there thinking of the ones I love and how blessed I am to see them everyday. I thought of the ones I've lost and how they had touched my lives. We all left that room more intimately involved with one other than we may have ever been, just through the ability to give the greatest gift that we have - our own heart.
