Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.
This morning it seemed that if instead of finishing my walk to work I remained still with soft gaze all day, I would be able to see the blossoms opening one by one.
Last night as I waited on the metro platform at Takoma Park after yoga class, a large man in a shabby black coat came up to me and said, “happy thanksgiving.”
“Happy thanksgiving,” I replied, thinking I like Thanksgiving better than I like Valentine’s Day, even considering the somewhat unsavory roots of both holidays.
“Oops,” he said, “I meant ‘happy Valentine’s Day; I’ve been getting that wrong all day.”
“That’s OK,” I said. “Every day should be a day of thanks giving.” I had been enjoying the day fully even though I had not engaged in any Hallmark-driven behavior and was feeling fully grateful for my life and not just because of the post-yoga class glow.
“I don’t have anyone to give red roses to any more,” the man lamented. “My mother has passed; my grandma has passed. I don’t have a girl right now.”
“Your mother and grandma are still here in your heart, and they know you love them. They do not need roses,” I offered. “In fact, you have helped the world be a better place not buying any roses today. Most bouquets of roses are laden with pesticides and cut and wrapped by women in poor countries who get sick from the pesticides.” At this, a young woman watching me with commiseration lit up with a big smile. Who would start giving advice on the hazards of Valentine’s Day flowers — I restrained myself from talking fair trade chocolate — in this situation?
“You’re nice,” the man said, “what’s your name?” The metro was still not due for another eight minutes, and, being the introverted, cautious, small, middle-aged woman that I am and thus feeling a little pressured by his longing for someone to talk to, I did the verbal dance to extricate myself from the conversation and get back to the email I had been in the middle of reading. He went away peaceably, so it was alright.
A rather conservative co-worker, who was one of the people who would have to go grocery shopping last night lest the family be without perishable food for a few days, was talking to me about the impending snowstorm (including me advising him of the one forecast for next Tuesday/Wednesday). “It shows,” he said, “how easily our infrastructure and food supply can be disrupted.” I gave it a little pause, and then replied, “this is why I talk about gardening in our own yards and switching away from agribusiness to a more sustainable and self-sustaining way of living and seek to shift myself, though it is difficult.” He said, “hmmm,” letting the idea stick in his mind, but not wanting to carry the discussion further. I know him well enough to have dropped it for the time, but also know he will think about it and perhaps over the years, for his beloved daughters or out of perceived necessity, start making small shifts.
In yoga practice, the concept of suddha vidya — illuminative wisdom — is both revealed and practiced. When we start practicing or even before, we may have occasional and early insights into fundamental truths of being, but without steady practice and contemplation they will be fleeting and not shift our way of living. If we practice and study continuously, though, our insight will become steadier, more consistent, and will start to illuminate all states of our being on and off the mat. The more I practice, the more it is illuminated for me the connection of all beings and my need to live in a way that is more open, tolerant, loving, and aligned with the complex web of our interconnection. My co-worker’s insight might not have been “yoga,” but it was indeed a moment of illuminative wisdom in its recognition of a misalignment of society that tears at the fabric of our being.
