Kali has a sense of humor

I left my house early for work this morning in a struggle to stay steady and pause in the painful uncertainty surrounding the future of Anusara and my Anusara family.  Left raw from the recent resignations, I only hesitatingly engaged in polite conversation with a familiar face on Silver Spring Metro platform.

Polite engagement was not on my radar.  Checking the latest 60+ email notifications of the conversation was, even though this painful communication was deepening my sadness even more.  Luckily, my manners won out and I approached Cheri (name changed to honor her confidentiality) who apparently had been a former student of mine at Willow Street Yoga Center.

This morning’s cold was sharp and unexpected.  When the metro finally came it was a huge relief, representing escape from the cold and the end of my polite obligation to engage.  Soon I could hunker down in my seat and get caught up on email.  My plan was foiled when a gallant man offered up his seat so we could sit together.  “Thank you,” I said with a smile, partly touched by his consideration but more disappointed than not.

Cheri and I caught up with one another. “I was in your first class at Willow Street,” she said, my grace-sensors now heightened at the serendipity of this encounter.  “You made it so fun.”  That felt good to hear… Ok, maybe this conversation wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

Then she dropped the grace-bomb on me.  “I remember when Willow Street opened (the Silver Spring studio) there was a big serious hurricane the day of the open house, and yet it was open anyway.  That’s when I met you and signed up for your class.”  Seriously grace?  You place me next to one of the few people who were there the day my home studio opened 10 + years ago? Ok, I hear you!   Yoga happens despite adversity.

Without going into details, I shared with her what a relief it was to be reminded of this memory since things are a bit tumultuous in our community right now.  I think she could feel my pain, but instead of saying, “Really, what happened?” she asked, “Well, have you gotten to that place on the hump yet where you can tell what the lesson is going to be yet?”  Still floored by the power of this encounter I decided to be honest and say, “No.”

I don’t know what is going to happen with my friends, my yoga, my teacher, my profession, my students, my income.  Each time I learn of another teacher’s departure, it deepens this uncertainty even more.  I can respect their decisions, but I do not like them for many reasons.  I won’t go into those reasons in this post, except for the most selfish one, the ones that affects me personally.  When they go it deepens the uncertainty, it rocks a boat that is already struggling to stay afloat.  I wish as a community we could pause to properly assess the problem, design a solution, and then be given the chance to implement it before abandoning ship. (Sorry, couldn’t help the overuse of the cliché).

Anyway, back to Cheri.  For some reason my gloomy response made us both laugh.  The next words out of her mouth were something to the effect of, “Well, then I think a miracle is going to happen.”  I couldn’t take it anymore.  Without even thinking I said, “Who are you?!  Are you an angel?  Are you real?”  Again, we cracked up and I was graced with the movement of more energy between Union Station and Farragut North than had moved all week.  (Did you catch that– “Union” Station?)  What a relief!  Our conversation then drifted to a play she had recently seen where family secrets had come to light.  I asked her if there were any lessons or themes that emerged from the play.  Without missing a beat she responded, “No one is above forgiveness.”

I still don’t know what is going to happen with our community.  For now, it feels best  for me to pause and observe.  What became clear to me from this encounter is that we cannot let our emotions, our decisions, our behavior, and especially our facebook posts distance us from our dharma to serve each other, our students, and overall Shri.

We are here to serve.  Let us not loose sight of that even as we accompany one another through this painful time.

Two more vignettes…  Still on this morning’s commute, now walking West on L street, I saw the grim reaper.  Seriously, not just metaphorically, but for realsies.  A man dressed in a long black cloak billowing in the wind was walking toward me with his white grim-reaper mask propped on his forehead and his massive grim reaper blade (what is that called?) resting over his shoulder.   I was astounded.  Grace was dishing it out, full force, and with a sense of humor.  In the darkness of the earth (metro tunnel) she shows me light, in the light of day she shows me darkness.  As we passed shoulders I turned back to get a better look.  My eyes were pulled to the blade resting on his back where I saw that something will have to be cut, dissolved, carried back to Kali’s black for life to continue.  But what is that something?  It remains to be seen.

It was a lot scarier than this

Forgive me in advance for quoting Wikipedia, and please feel free to chime in to confirm or dispel these assertions, but a quick search on Grim Reaper reveals that “In Hindu scriptures, the lord of death is called Yama…also known as Dharmaraj, or king of Dharma or justice…”  Death, duty, justice.  Pretty relevant right now, no?  I am going to give these karmas a chance to play out.  Though I am in pain, I can hold space for the process.  I am in good company, and even when things totally suck, I can find reasons to laugh.  I believe BJ Galvan when she says things will be all right, no matter what. (I don’t know if she said the “no matter what” part, but nevertheless.)

Lastly, right before entering my building on 21^st street, a car backing out of the parking lot paused to let us pass, and yes, WITH a bumper sticker.

“Choose Compassion.”

OK ok I GOT it.  She works in threes, and this morning her messages to me were these:

1. Yoga is fuelled by shree’s persistence, her willingness to exist.  On some level, we are held by a proclivity towards order and expansion despite the obstacles. Hurricane?  No problem.  We have come through adversity before.  Sure, it is hard, but let us not forget the reason we are here, and that is to serve.
2. Kali is no joke, even though she can be very funny.  Death, dissolution, and justice are not only a good idea but essential for a thriving community.  There is no going back to the way things were, only forward.
3. Choose compassion.  Things are already difficult enough, let us not make them harder.  Though it is my opinion that a little more discernment, patience and wisdom in our expressions would benefit our community, I can keep my heart spacious to the possibility that everyone is responding in the best way they know how.  Above all, we must work to keep our hearts moist for each other lest we retreat in painful isolation from this chosen family we all love.

Riding the Waves of Grace