I went to yoga yesterday which is always, always a good decision. There was no background music during the class as the teacher's phone wasn't working. There was just silence and the soothing voice of Carmen, the instructor. The class was not as physically intense giving more time to let the mind and thoughts go...
Going through the motions and poses of class, I was aware that there was an older man next to me, During one particular exercise, we were laying on our backs and had to stretch out our arms and I had to look to make sure I would not hit him. I also noticed he wasn't paying any attention to this. Our hands were within an inch and a half of each other. I had to hold my fingers up to avoid touching.
When I glanced at his hand, I saw his gold wedding band. All of a sudden, the image of my dad's hands popped up in my head. Emotion flooded me in an instant. My dad's hands were thicker than mine and tanned from all of his time and work outside. And I wished that I could look at them one more time.
Grief just seems to pop out of nowhere.
We were so close, yet able to finish that yoga sequence to completion without ever touching.
I continue to be amazed at what emotion comes up in yoga and how it comes up so quickly and without any warning. I am reminded that we store feelings in the body (and heart) and that when we are quiet, or writing, or practicing yoga, "stuff" comes up. And is it fun to feel this stuff?? Nooooo. (But it is healing and necessary to be whole hearted)
I don't want to go through the motions of life anymore, I want to have an open heart even if it is uncomfortable. I'm learning to be curious and kind to all feelings that come up. It is becoming crystal clear that mindfulness is the only way though compulsions. And when one blocks or numbs feeling, you don't just block the so called "negative" emotions, you block joy and excitement and happiness too.
That afternoon, I head to Riley's softball game, I look up and there was Dad's cardiologist and my chest felt heavy again. Really, today?! This is not a coincidence. (Holy Spirit!) We attend the same church but I don't see him very often but when I do, I immediately think of dad. I don't know him very well, essentially just through my parents and they really liked, admired and trusted him. I felt called to go and speak to him. We chatted for a while. He said what a nice man my dad was and when he took on Dad's case and looked through his thick chart and poor heart condition, how impressive it was that he lived as long as he did on peritoneal dialysis. In essence, Dad stands as the poster child for living as long as he did under his complicated health conditions.
The most meaningful thing was that I was compelled to tell this doctor about the yoga class and the feelings about my dad that came up. I took a risk yet he totally understood what had occurred as he himself had practiced yoga years back. He knew what I was talking about.
I don't know why I decided to tell him what had been transpiring that day but I did. I have learned my lesson so many times and experienced the blank stares from people who have not earned the right to hear my story and yet I tried to tell them anyway... I'm learning not to do that.
But today was meant to be. It worked out. I listen to my intuition and I shared and was understood and comforted. It was a very precious moment.
(Listening to intuition is such a skillful practice and a God thing. This was a higher power moment. )
And the tears are still falling and the chest still gets heavy at times. And it's not a bad thing. It's a healing thing. Who knew my dad would visit me in yoga? I would never have put that together at all. {smile} After all, he had a good sense of humor.
Namaste.
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