On the mat, we learn to be present. We focus on our breath & movement and all the spaces in between, while snuggling up to our edge. This climate makes the ground fertile for opening up to possibility in a potent, mindful way. We practice lessons on the mat that we hope will join us in our lives off the mat. These lessons live out loud in the moments of our lives, to varying degrees, depending on how open we remain during our daily rhythm.
I found out yesterday that one of my best friends from high school died.
Jon called me eight years ago and left a cryptic message, one that put me off a bit. I was nervous to call him after not talking with or seeing him since the late 80’s when we’d already begun to grow apart; a couple of days later I called and left him a message. When I didn’t hear back from him, I didn’t pursue it and life went on. Periodically, he would pop into my mind, but I was content to live with my happy memories of him. If I’d been awake, would I have contented myself with letting it go without any effort?
I wonder who is perched on the periphery of my life now, unnoticed, whose voice I’m not hearing.
When I’m on my mat, deepening my practice to truly meet my edge, do I honor the hours of effort and sweat that got me here or does all progress live in a bubble? How do I honor Jon now, in hindsight & absentia? His friendship was a pivotal one in the world of who I was and the paths I chose that brought me here. His spirit lives in who I’ve become.
While Jon’s significance in my life waned over the years since high school, his death has brought our friendship to the present moment & magnified lessons lost and lessons learned.
Love, like our spirit, does not disappear, it just changes form.
Rest in Love & Peace, old friend!
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sure do love you.
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