Check out Elephant’s Continually-updating Coronavirus Diary. ~ Waylon
I am moved to share this adorable photo that my friend and student posted after our Zoom yoga class.
Throughout the class, my friend balanced her yoga practice and caring for her baby. I saw her nuzzle him when she was in Child’s pose, feed him when she did her hip stretches, and laugh out loud when he would try to grab at his reflection on the computer.
I love that during our Zoom classes, I get to “see” a little window into your COVID-19 lives. Actually, I think the word that best describes this “view into your life’s window” is hope.
I feel hope when I see you showing up for you and your practice.
I feel hope when I see you breathing within the distractions around you.
I feel hope when I see you give your little a kiss when they join you on your mat.
I feel hope when you pause within our practice and let the tears move through you. It is not easy to breathe into the emotions of this situation, but still, you feel it to heal it.
I feel hope when your partner walks through the room and gives you a smile and I witness the kindness within your connection.
I feel hope when I see the art, photos, and things in your home that you honor and hold sacred.
I feel hope when your kid (or pet) jumps on your back and you laugh and consider it your “yoga adjustment” for the day. I feel hope when you don’t lash out at them, even though I know you are at the end of your rope.
And, when you do yell, I feel hope when you forgive yourself, because we are all doing the best we can, and you know that.
I feel hope when you show up with no make-up, hair a mess, and maybe you forgot your pants (ha!). The point is, I feel hope when you are vulnerable and honest and real. The connection that comes from us being real, together, gives me hope.
I feel hope when you say you’ve had a tough day, yet you still showed up to your mat.
I feel hope when I see stacks of laundry behind you and I know that we are having some similar experiences during this challenging time.
I feel hope when you come late, because you have somehow created time within your crazy day to breathe and move and take care of your health and well-being.
I feel hope that you roll out your mat for your children to do Kids Yoga and they get to learn some awesome life tools at such a young age.
I feel hope when we all say hi and smile at each other at the beginning of class. When we remember this community of beautiful people who are tapping into their internal landscape to discover peace and grounding; a community that has experienced us when we are at our mental limit in this world, and reminded us that we can shift inside to train our brain to replenish and renew and reset.
I feel hope knowing that there are people who can sense and feel how we are all connected, even though we are not physically together.
As the world we knew stopped existing, I felt hope that there are people who look for and see a higher meaning in all of this. So many of you have re-connected with what is meaningful and made changes that will help change our world-to-come, for the better. And, you know they are much needed changes if we want our planet to exist and be healthy for future generations.
I feel hope when we offer our practice to the people who are suffering in our world and we take conscious breaths to give them strength and peace, in as many ways as possible.
I feel so much hope when I see those of you heroes who have been on the frontline of this illness, (some of you who even got sick), and you share your stories, which teach us how to create more and more compassion.
I feel hope when we utter the sacred words:
Namaste. The light in me sees and honors the light in you.
I feel hope that you let me “see” you, and that you “see” me.
I am honored to see you. And, friend, believe me when I say this:
I feel tremendous hope when I see you connecting with the part of you that is beyond all of the fear and stories and uncertainty that is swirling around us.
I feel hope and I thank you for that.
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