September Changes
Every moment is a transition from what was into what is. Being present is simply riding the waves of change. Being a yogi is riding these waves with skill.
I had thought yoga was nothing, really. A kind of fitness activity to do on “rest” days, the days I wasn’t teaching spin, or going on long runs, or taking Pilates and barre classes back to back to back. Then I started reading the philosophy, and I thought, oh wow, my ancestors and I are asking the same questions of life. What is this, and how do we transcend?
Life is not what we think it is. Undoing the thinking is precisely what gives space for the living. Easier said than done, like most yoga postures.
Riding the waves of change. The world goes on, changing our seasons. The daylight angles differently now, the garden is lush but letting go. When I begin sun salutations, the air is crisp. When I finish, over two hours later, the sun is hot, my skin is darker, I tend to the garden. There are a few reddening tomatoes, squash and strawberries ready to pick, bushes of mint growing thick. The kale grows thin and I’ve planted cabbage seeds, thinking of fall, thinking of thousands of generations of humans who have planted seeds in September while thinking of fall.
We lose ourselves in the busyness of our lives. Classes are full, students are strong, I am happy. Books are flowing in and out of my hands and mind like water; I am happy. My short stories are turning from figments of handwritten fiction to real bits of data, one of which was published; I am happy. None of this matters, not even that I’m happy.
Life is enormous, isn’t it? What matters is how we touch one another. With love, care, kindness, devotion. When we take great care of our health, stay calm and open minded, it is so we can share this light with others. When we spend all our energy caring for others, we fall into bed exhausted, to rise refreshed, ready to do it all over again.
And that’s it, that’s all that is required for a meaningful life. That we care, we live, that we let go of the things that come between ourselves and the caring, the living.
We are connected in ways inconceivable.