I've been thinking of family, which began with a rare phone call from my Uncle James, my mother's only sibling, now 85, wondering what to do, where to live now that his wife's advanced Alzheimer's has permanently separated them both mentally and geographically. Struggling with health and financial issues, struggling with not knowing, yet facing life with an incredible sense of humor and independence. As a kid I remember him as tall and lean, thick light red hair, an outdoorsy kind of guy like an adult boy scout. For 7 consecutive years he drove from New Orleans and took all of us on extended camping trips to Camp Riverview on the Frio River, not too far from Garner State Park. It was always magical for me, sleeping on cots under an open sky, snorkeling and swimming every day, tirelessly riding the water on our air filled plastic rafts, nursing sunburns, listening to the constant flow of the river and the wind in the sycamores, late evening hunts in the shallows for crayfish. Always my uncle could built a campfire using only one match. I am guilty of all too often dwelling on childhood memories that were wounding--hence needing attention and processing--and forgetting the safe, nurturing, and peaceful moments that are also important collections of one's personal history. Is it me, or is it human nature to want to feel good, happy, joyful, contented, safe...most, if not all the time? My uncle reminds me, yet again, of the importance of learning to find peace with our troubles when they arise. Remembering to ride the breath, like all those countless moments of floating down the Frio, the fast moving shallow rapids, the slow moving calm of the deeper water, the step by step feel of earth and rocks beneath toughened feet.
Yoga training is nearing an end, and I'm glad for that, although I know I will miss the structured learning and growing process I sought, and found, and I'll miss my classmates (two are with child), and most of all, my teacher. It's been an enriching experience on all fronts--deepening my practice, meeting and interacting with new people, paying attention to that which resonates, moving into zones of discomfort, and much more, but in summary, feeling more awakened and alive to life and growing into that, growing into yoga. What I missed is staying home with my partner, and our pets, working in the yard. The accumulated projects will provide for a busy spring spent outdoors, getting my hands dirty, working with plants, painting the unfinished part of the gate and courtyard wall, digging up the bamboo and separating and replanting the lilies. Feeling the sun. Hearing the chimes. Hearing the quiet. Yes, the quiet.
We baked an Angel Food cake yesterday, and will serve it up today covered with sweetened, sliced strawberries and whipped cream in celebration of several birthdays. Little nieces running around the house just being kids, being very noisy, coloring one moment, crying the next. I look forward to it, and then I'll look forward to it being over. Yes, the quiet, but not too much quiet, not for me, not for too long.
I had a brief but wow moment yesterday when I ran into Mary K R, and she wanted to know why I didn't return to the immersion a year or so ago. So in response to her gentle probing I was totally honest and told her I found her to be cold, unloving, detached, and not very friendly! And in saying the words out loud, to her, the truth revealed itself so clearly. I just wasn't ready at that time. I had projected my hypersensitivity on to her, and made up a story which I bought into and acted on by leaving, by not returning. At the time, I think it's what I needed to do as I just wasn't up to that particular struggle and learning process. It was a moment of synchronicity. I hope to learn more from her in the future, if it's in the cards.
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