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Last week, I took one of my therapeutic yoga clients on a field trip. Elaine has been recovering from a broken shoulder—an unfortunate injury sustained during one of her many inspiring international birding adventures, this time in Singapore. The injury occurred at the end of her trip, and she faced the daunting task of navigating flights home with a painful and immobilized arm. Thankfully, she made it back to the States and received the medical care she needed to begin her healing journey. That’s where I came in. As Elaine followed her doctor’s instructions and diligently practiced the physical therapy exercises prescribed to her, we began to explore what else might support her full recovery. With another international trip on the horizon, it was clear that healing her shoulder was only part of the picture. It was time to address the whole body—and the mind and spirit too. Since Elaine isn’t driving yet, our sessions began as home visits. Drawing on our 17-year history of practicing yoga together, I adapted a therapeutic approach that focused on chair and standing postures. Getting up and down from the floor was not an option, so our goal was to build strength in her legs and core, maintain flexibility and balance, and offer some much-needed movement to the rest of the body. After a fall, it’s common for people to develop a lingering fear—not just of specific movements, but of moving through the world in general. Everyday activities that were once second nature, like walking to the mailbox, crossing the street, or being in a crowd, can suddenly feel uncertain or even risky. That loss of confidence can deeply affect a person’s sense of independence. So in our work together, we focused on rebuilding that confidence—through both mindset and movement. While the physical therapist concentrated on her shoulder, I turned my attention to the foundation: her feet and ankles. Improving strength and mobility there helps support balance, stability, and ultimately, a renewed sense of trust in the body. We also addressed the discomforts that arose from compensating with only one arm and from the lack of her usual movement routine. While seated, we gently explored spinal movements, palm tree (leaving out the right arm), and gentle rotation. Elaine was eager to stretch the backs of her legs, so we brought in a second chair: one to sit on, the other to elevate her leg for a posterior thigh stretch. We found creative ways to stretch the quads and hips too—simple movements that brought real relief. Throughout our sessions, we wove in mindful breath guidance, specific pranayama practices, and eventually standing and balancing postures. Each week, we add something new—and each week, I see Elaine grow a little brighter with renewed confidence and encouragement. One of the highlights of our work together came last week. Elaine had been longing to visit the ocean—one of her favorite places—but hadn’t been able to go due to her injury and lack of transportation. That day, I had a cancellation and a little extra time. I asked if she’d like to take her practice to the beach. Her face lit up. “Yes!” she said, without hesitation. We drove to Doran Beach and found the perfect spot: a bench, a railing, a gentle breeze, and an unobstructed view of the water. Elaine practiced seated movements, standing postures, and breath work as the waves rolled in and seabirds soared overhead. As a master birder, she shared her knowledge with me, identifying the calls we were hearing—each one distinct, including the unmistakable cry of the Black Oystercatcher. I loved getting to learn from her in this way. It was the perfect setting—simple, nourishing, and alive. Yoga therapy, like yoga itself, is about so much more than postures. It’s breath, awareness, connection, and healing. It’s the ability to adapt, to listen deeply, and to honor the full person—body, mind, and soul. It’s community, nature, and moments that restore joy. I’m so grateful Elaine was up for the outing. I could feel how it lifted her spirits—and mine too. That, in itself, is medicine.
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Recently, I’ve been confronted with a very difficult situation that truly breaks my heart. While the personal details are not important for the purpose of this essay, I can offer a glimpse into my process — in case you, too, are facing a personal challenge that feels overwhelming.
When this situation first arose, although incredibly upsetting, I knew — from years of practice — what I needed to do first: "Don’t just do something — sit there." It wasn’t easy. Every part of me wanted to jump in, to fix, to change, to stop what was happening. But experience had taught me that rushing to action only added more confusion and often made things worse. I needed clarity first. So I sat. I breathed. I asked myself: Is this truly life-threatening, or does it just feel that way because of old wounds and fear? Stepping back and taking that pause helped me see more clearly. I realized:
That’s when the deeper work began:
I had to sit with the raw discomfort of my resistance to letting go — with fear, grief, and the mind’s endless ideas about how things should be. I had to witness the part of me that clings, the part that believes safety lies in control and then investigate what that is all about. I turned to yoga and to 12-step wisdom — both of which teach about non-attachment, surrender, and acceptance. In Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras, the practice of Santosha (contentment) reminds us that peace is not something we create by arranging life perfectly. It’s already present when we loosen our grasp, when we stop insisting that things be different. In the Bhagavad Gita, we’re taught about equanimity — meeting success and failure, joy and sorrow, pleasure and pain, with the same steady heart. Both teachings point to a radical idea: True peace (and ultimately true change) does not come from changing our circumstances. It comes from changing our relationship to them. Lately, I’ve been living into this. Not perfectly. Not without tears. But slowly, quietly, one breath at a time. Acceptance, I’m learning, doesn’t mean liking what’s happening. It means being in this life as it is, right now — and somehow trusting that something greater is unfolding. There is a deeper intelligence guiding this life, even when I cannot see it. Trust doesn’t erase the ache. It gives me the strength to stay open, grounded, receptive, and ready. Acceptance is not passive. It’s an active, living trust — a steady listening — that prepares me to take right action when the time comes. It’s a bowing of the heart to something vaster and wiser than my own understanding. It’s not easy to do, but there are moments when I can feel my body relax -- the deep inhale, the long exhale — and a calm peace enters. In those moments, I imagine that perhaps I am standing at the doorway of a deeper freedom — a freedom to know happiness even amidst sorrow, to feel grief without losing touch with the quiet joy that lives at the core of being. This joy is not a denial of pain. It is the vastness that makes room for it all -- the sadness, the love, the heartache, and the hope -- held in the great, unbreakable heart of life itself. In closing I leave you with an invitation for inquiry. You might ask: Where in my life am I being invited to trust more deeply? What would it feel like to stand at the doorway of freedom — even in the midst of uncertainty?  Our 40-Day Meditation Journey that began on the New Moon of January 29th, has unfolded alongside immense challenges in our country and the world, where uncertainty, suffering, and difficulty are ever-present. Our daily group gathering has been a steady refuge in the midst of these times, offering a space to ground ourselves in presence, resilience, and inner peace.
Ending this morning’s Zoom call brought this program to completion. I moved through my usual post-practice tasks—blowing out the candles, returning the deities and altar items to their shelf, folding my blanket, and putting away the props I used for sitting and breathing. Then came the technical wrap-up: preparing the video replay, making minimal edits, handling uploads and downloads, composing the reflection question, and finally hitting send on the email to the group. Done. I paused. I took a long breath in and a long breath out. I reflected on the journey I had just been on and felt a deep sense of gratitude. It has been an honor and a privilege to share these teachings and to cultivate such unwavering consistency in our practice each morning. Since I had a responsibility to the group to showing up every day, there was no inner debate about whether or not to get up. No bargaining over whether to have tea first or practice first. No questioning which practice to do. Believe it or not, even after all these years, my mind still chatters with its incessant tirade. But with the responsibility of holding space for the group, I had no choice but to get up, get dressed, set up, and get on with it. There was relief in surrendering to this rhythm, in moving forward without distraction. This leads me to an important question: Can I make this same commitment to myself each day? Can I meet my Self in stillness and presence, just as I have met my students? Can that inner wisdom of discipline and devotion rise above the noise of distractions? Looking back at my journal, I found my intention from Day 1 of the 40-day commitment: "Today begins the 40-Day Meditation Challenge. My intention is to be peace, to release all fear, and to trust fully and completely in God." Reading those words, I immediately asked myself: Have I become peace? I do feel that I have dropped deeper into the steadiness within. Perhaps that is peace. And have I released all fear? That has not happened. If anything, the fear feels even more intense. And what about trusting fully and completely in God? For me, God is more an abstract concept. It is an inner experience of completeness. And I can say that what I do trust in fully and completely is the practice each morning. This practice that brings to me this sense of completeness, of presence, of wholeness. And because I've experienced it, I trust the calm, the presence, and the order that unfolds. Over the years, I have encountered different interpretations of the word 'GOD' as an acronym: 'Good Orderly Direction' and 'Generator, Organizer, Destroyer.' The latter can be softened by replacing "destroyer" with "transformation," but the essence remains the same. It is about removing what is no longer needed and clearing away the blocks to inner freedom. Perhaps the intensity of fear and the presence of deep grief that I'm feeling in these final days of practice is because I have allowed space for them to come to the surface to be healed and released. Meditation is not just about cultivating stillness; it is about uprooting deeply embedded samskaras—the past mental imprints and patterns—so that we may see clearly and recognize our true Self. As Sutra 1.14 says, the practice needs to be for a long time, without interruption, and with dedication. Through steady, consistent, devoted practice, this process unfolds. Old patterns surface to be seen, understood, and ultimately released. It is not always easy. But through years of study, I have learned to return to the cushion and to be consistent even while at times, riding the waves. Just don't let them pull you under. The benefits of PranaVidya (pranayama, dharana, dhyana) are vast—physical, mental, and emotional. Yet, if one is willing, meditation can also be a path to realization, a remembering of our true nature. Within that remembrance, there is joy, peace, and the promise of more to come. So be gentle with yourself. Stay steady. The journey continues. A Test of Bhakti: Cultivating Love and Compassion in Challenging Moments What does it mean to love unconditionally? How do we cultivate compassion even in the face of difficulty? Bhakti Yoga teaches that love is not just an emotion but a state of being—a way of seeing the divine in all.
I had just begun leading a series of Bhakti Yoga talks with my students—twelve amazing individuals who gathered early each morning to explore the depths of devotion, love, and surrender. My heart was overflowing with gratitude, and I felt an immense sense of joy in sharing these teachings. Each session was a reminder of the beauty of Bhakti: opening the heart, cultivating loving-kindness, and seeing the Divine in all. And then, something unexpected happened. On two consecutive days, while out in the world running errands, enjoying the sunshine and blue skies, I was met with hostility from complete strangers. Two different women, in two different locations, on two separate days, unleashed their frustration and quite literally their fury onto me with harsh words and aggressive energy. I had done nothing to provoke them, yet I found myself at the receiving end of their anger. I seemed to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Or maybe it was the right place and the right time. The first incident occurred at the market. A woman, clearly upset about something beyond me, but it manifested as me being in her way, lashed out, her words sharp and biting. It startled me, but I remained calm and moved away from the situation quickly. The second encounter, however, was far more intense. At my credit union the following day, another woman directed her fury at me, her words dripping with venom. At first, I responded with kindness, hoping to ease the tension. But my friendliness only seemed to enrage her further. That’s when I realized—I needed to step back. This wasn’t a situation to mend or fix; it was one to witness and release. Others around me noticed what was happening and stepped in to help create distance. I left shaken. My nervous system felt the impact of these interactions, and my mind clung to the question: Why did this happen? I had been in such a loving space, immersed in Bhakti, sharing these teachings with my students. And yet, out in the world, I had encountered the complete opposite energy. As I drove back to the studio, trying to make sense of it all, I said, I know there is something in Yoga that can help me to get free of this. That is when Sutra 1.33 from the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali came to mind: “By cultivating attitudes of friendliness toward the happy, compassion for the unhappy, delight in the virtuous, and equanimity toward the non-virtuous, the mind-stuff retains its undisturbed calmness.” I realized these encounters were not separate from my Bhakti practice—they were part of it. The Divine was not merely present in my morning gatherings with my students; the Divine was also present in those difficult interactions. It was as if the Universe was asking: Can you hold the same love and compassion here, in the face of hostility? Can you embody Bhakti even when it’s not easy? Even when they are not loving you? I sat down to meditate before my next clients came in. As I settled the word forgiveness arose. Not just as an idea, but as a feeling. Forgiveness for these women who were clearly struggling, and a heartfelt prayer for their peace and well-being. The tension in my body softened. Forgiveness for myself also arose—for the fear I went into, for the fight-or-flight response that was triggered. In that moment, my instinct was to help the woman find peace, to ease her suffering, but I realized that was a trauma response, an automatic reaction rather than a conscious choice. My meditation continued — a complete breath, a pause, and I allowed myself to extend compassion inward as well. More softening, settling, releasing. To help fully release it, I turned to movement--cat rolls and child’s pose—allowing my nervous system to let go of the imprint of the experience. The flowing movements of TriYoga helped restore my sense of peace. As I reflect further, I couldn’t help but see these encounters as a microcosm of the greater suffering in the world. Right now, there is so much pain, conflict, and hardship—more than I have ever known in my lifetime. The hostility I faced in those moments was just a small reflection of the deeper unrest that exists on a global scale. Bhakti Yoga teaches us that love is not selective—it is meant to extend to all beings, even those who are caught in their own suffering and unable to offer love in return. If I truly believe in devotion as a way of life, then the real question is not whether I can feel love in the comfort of my sacred spaces, but whether I can bring that same love into a world that is hurting. Perhaps, then, the Divine was not merely offering me a test, but a reminder—that every moment, every encounter, no matter how challenging, is an opportunity to practice love in action. These experiences became a deeper lesson in Bhakti. Loving devotion is not only cultivated in sacred spaces, surrounded by those who share our joy—it must also be extended into the world, even when met with resistance. True Bhakti means loving not only when it is easy, but also when it is hard. And so, I returned to my students the next morning, not only with a heart full of love, but with a lived experience of what it means to practice Bhakti Yoga in all situations. The Divine is always offering opportunities to grow in love. The only question is: "How will we meet them?  Many of you are grandparents, as am I, so you might appreciate my latest musings on this grandparenting journey. While I write this essay from a grandmother's perspective, much of it could equally apply to grandfathers. Even if you’re not a grandparent, but you care for children or have them in your life in some way, you might still find something helpful in this writing.
So far, this holiday break from teaching has been a mix of restful, fun times with family and some not-so-restful moments with my very active grandkids! The restful moments have included family connection and relaxation, while the active ones have kept me staying alert, making every day unique. We’ve gone to the Dicken's Faire, enjoyed ocean walks and forest walks, wrapped and unwrapped gifts, played fun games like Twister and Uno, enjoyed lots of good food and probably had too many treats! My grandkids are giving me many opportunities to practice things like patience, such as staying calm when they test limits, and acceptance—particularly of the inevitable messes that come with their creativity and play. I’ve learned (well it’s a work in progress!) not to take things personally, like when a meltdown arises out of nowhere, and to set boundaries, such as encouraging them to do their jobs and reminding them to speak kindly to one another. They are fully living in the present, with all the intensity of moods, emotions, spontaneity, excitement, and the occasional battles between them, which can be both delightful and challenging. Their unfiltered way of engaging with life often reminds me to let go of expectations and embrace the beauty of the moment, but it also requires me to draw deeply on my reserves of patience and creativity as a grandmother. My daughter is a single mom and I am a single grandma and while I’m so very grateful we have each other, it can still get exhausting. Sigh. . . I take comfort in these words from the book that I'm currently reading, ‘Aging As A Spiritual Practice’ by Lewis Richmond that says, “There is a theory among evolutionary biologists called the “grandmother hypothesis,” which holds that "evolution favored older women who used their knowledge and experience to benefit their relatives’ children.” Here are some key insights I’ve drawn from the grandmother hypothesis: 1. The Understanding That My Role Is Evolutionarily Significant According to the hypothesis, grandmothers play a vital role in their families by supporting the survival and well-being of their grandchildren. This support may include caregiving, sharing wisdom, or helping parents manage their responsibilities. It’s good to know that my involvement contributes to the long-term success of my family. 2. My Knowledge Matters Evolutionary biologists suggest that older women have accumulated wisdom that benefits younger generations. Turns out whether it's guidance on parenting, life skills, or problem-solving, my experience provides valuable resources for my family. 3. Connection Strengthens Survival The theory highlights the importance of intergenerational bonds. Apparently my active presence as a grandmother fosters emotional security and well-being for my grandchildren, which can have lasting effects on their development. 4. A Cultural Legacy This is one of my favorites! Beyond immediate survival, my role includes passing on cultural traditions, values, and stories. This helps grandchildren develop a sense of identity and belonging, which are key to resilience and adaptability. Some of our favorite times together are sharing stories with my kids about my father, my grandparents and my growing up. They beg me for these stories and have their favorites and even have some memorized! 5. A Biological Perspective on Purpose The hypothesis suggests that human longevity—especially for women beyond their reproductive years—has an evolutionary advantage. Our life stage is not an end but a critical period for contributing to the family and to society in meaningful ways. It is good to know that my presence and care are not just appreciated but are part of a broader, deeply rooted evolutionary success story. In conclusion, caring for grandchildren can be a source of joy, purpose, and health benefits, as long as it doesn’t become overwhelming. By maintaining balance, grandmothers can enjoy a mutually enriching relationship with their grandchildren while preserving their own well-being.  In my yoga classes, each student is navigating something—whether it’s physical, mental, emotional, or spiritual, and often a combination of these. One might be recovering from knee surgery, another from a hip replacement, while someone else is grieving the loss of a loved one or care-taking for a partner or parent. Someone may be facing cancer or another serious illness. Some are dealing with frozen shoulder, SI joint issues, or low back pain. Some come in with tight joints, muscles, and physical tension, while others have hypermobile bodies and may overstretch, putting stress on their joints. Currently I have one student with a cast on a broken hand, and many are dealing with stress and anxiety. And of course, we see conditions like arthritis, degenerative disc disease, osteoporosis, and osteopenia—common with aging bodies. And these are the students attending my regular open classes, not just my Therapeutic Yoga Courses!
Yet, despite these challenges, most (if not all) of you arrive—whether in person or online—with a big sigh of relief, saying, 'I’m so glad to be here.' I have to say that I’ve never heard anyone say, 'Ugh! I’m so mad that I’m here!’ I am so blessed and honored to hold this place of refuge and healing for you. You’ve likely heard me say that yoga is not a one-size-fits-all practice. Originally, yoga was taught one-on-one—one teacher, one student—which makes sense, as everyone has different needs. That said, the energy of practicing together in a group is wonderful, and I believe both individual and group practices have value. In group classes, I aim to provide general alignment instruction, but it’s important to know that not every cue applies to everyone. For example, there are students who are hypermobile and others who are hypomobile. If someone has limited mobility, with tight shoulders and forward rounding in the thoracic spine, I might suggest, 'Gently draw your shoulders back and down, and lift through your sternum. This would be appropriate for someone with rounding, but for a student that is hypermobile, following this instruction might cause them to overcompensate, pulling their shoulders too far back, pushing their ribs forward, and hyperextending the low back possibly causing compression in the lumbar spine. While I do my best to address different needs in a group setting, I can’t always give every individual the time and attention they might require. This is why I believe private sessions are so beneficial. In a private session, we can focus on your specific needs, helping you understand how to apply the instructions to your body. You can then take what you learn and integrate it into your group classes. I recommend private sessions alongside group practice—perhaps monthly, bimonthly, or quarterly, depending on your budget. While private sessions can cover any aspect of the practice, from posture to breath, focus, and meditation, we often begin with a focus on postures and correct alignment. This way you can fine tune and learn the safest way to practice for your body. Lastly, I love hearing from you. When you share your takeaways, questions, and insights, it helps me understand how the practice is landing for you and what I may need to communicate differently. Your questions might also be shared by others, so everyone benefits when you speak up.  I have to admit, I’m not quite ready to say goodbye to summer. While I do enjoy the fall season, the thought of September’s busyness leading into the holiday rush— and even the upcoming election—feels overwhelming. I am, however, very ready to move past Mercury being in Retrograde, which ends on the 27th. It’s been quite the ride! Maybe part of my reluctance to see summer end is because its been so busy, far from the long, lazy days I remember from childhood. Those days feel like a distant memory, back when life seemed slower and simpler.
As an adult, life has often felt like a non-stop race, and I’m recognizing a deep longing within me to slow down. I yearn to simply sit and take in the sounds and sights of nature in my backyard, returning to a natural state of simply being, not doing. This reminds me to let this be my practice. Can I just be without the constant doing? Can the doing naturally arise from a place of being, without force or strain, just like I guide you in your asana and kriya practice? Is it possible to live this way when there are bills to pay, work to complete, children to care for, and so many other responsibilities? I’m suddenly reminded of when I was a professional modern dancer, and in particular, the improvisation I did back then. When I stepped onto the dance floor filled with fast-moving music and dancers, my response was always the opposite. I would move slowly, almost in slow motion, through the space and the flurry of activity. I sensed that I needed to do this to bring calm in the midst of chaos. Reflecting on the path my life has taken, I see that I’ve always had this instinct—the faster things move around me, the slower I want to go. So, I keep my daily practice sacred. Each morning, I light a candle and engage in meditation, pranayama, and movements to release the stiffness of the night. Throughout the day, I remind myself to stay connected to my breath, move my body, chant my mantra or other uplifting songs, pause when needed, and apply strength when more effort is required. And each evening, I close the day with a gratitude list and meditation. May you continue to use these practices that I share with you as you navigate your way through life and may these last days of summer for you be peaceful and filled with a quiet joy. Jaya Guru Devi Kashi P.S. In closing I will say that this essay was written by me and in my words with a little AI help for grammar, but this next part is AI’s answer to my question of: “How can yoga help me with the overwhelm and unbalanced rush of life?” I thought its answer was pretty good, so I’m sharing it with you below. Yoga can be a powerful tool to help navigate the overwhelm and unbalanced rush of life. Here's how it can support you:
And there you have it! May all the world be at peace.  I’ve been working with Runes since my early 20s when my first (and still used) set came to me. I found that this tool of divination has been very useful in gaining insights as well as helping me to see what is going on clearly. Especially through the difficult times when I might not want to look at a particular challenge that I’m being presented with. Like in this spread that I pulled up today. This is not an easy reading. Each of these Runes are in the reversed position. A difficult time for sure. And while this spread points to disruption, a difficult passage, a crisis, or a blockage in what may be wanting to be birthed, it is clear that what is happening is timely for my growth. I am assured that the inner strength I have funded until now in my life is my support and guide during this time of increased challenge. I am encouraged (and even somewhat excited) as I understand and accept what is occurring is clearing away what is no longer needed and is moving me towards more freedom, more expansion, and more love. I am counseled that what is called for here is diligence, to maintain serenity, and to continue to take the steps necessary for this growth and transformation.
So, to stay grounded and ride these waves of transformation, I stay steady with my daily practices of PranaVidya and TriYoga flows. Maybe even increasing to twice a day! What this gives to me is this: 1) It brings me back into my body; 2) which brings me back into NOW; 3) which brings spaciousness into my mind; 4) and connects me to higher awareness and my true state of being which is a peaceful, calm, and conscious state of being. What I find when I come out of my dedicated practice and move through each day is this: 1) My mind is clear, clarity emerges; 2) I hear the inner guidance giving direction; 3) I follow the inner guidance that is given, which is always correct and always uncomplicated; 4) and even through the difficulties I remain in the witness state and I enjoy the inner state of peace, calm and joy that are ever present . What does not need to happen is my trying to figure out solutions with my mind and my thoughts. That never works and only causes more confusion and rough waves. May you stay steady with your practice through whatever challenges you may be moving through. If you don’t have a practice, hit me up (as they say 😉) and give yourself this gift of serenity. All love, Kashi 💫 7/9/23 I decided to catch the 9:45 pm shuttle tonight, the last one of the night, and spend the night in the airport, to be able to catch my 6:30 am flight. Well, the drive with Sam (not real name) to the airport was great. I'll try to share some of his story and our trip together in this post. We were the only ones on the bus so I sat up front in order to talk to him and learn about his life. He shared so much starting with being born in Vietnam and coming to this country on a boat, when he was just seventeen, all alone. He talked and talked often interrupting his flow of sharing to say, "Wow! I'm talking so much, I never talk this much!" I continued to listen. He told me that although he couldn't speak english, he was able to get a job as a dishwasher. It was at that job where an “angel” (Sam’s words) came into his life and ended up showing him how to navigate in this new world. She basically adopted him, helping him to get an education, learn english, and then helped him go to cosmetology school. He became a hair stylist and also loved to travel. He traveled to many different places in the US and would work for awhile and then travel some more. This lady (his guardian angel) he told me, gave him guidelines on how things worked and what he needed to do to survive in the world. He spoke a lot about this lady and how much she helped him and how grateful he was for her and that he never would have had the life that he had if it wasn't for her. She also helped him to get his commercial license since he liked to drive so much.
We continued our drive to the airport making stops at pick up places, but no one was getting on the bus. At these stops he would offer me drinks and popcorn and whatever else i wanted. I had some popcorn, chocolate and peanuts. We were having fun. Sam then told me that his angel is now 97 years old and she is dying. He was so sad about this. He told me that he had just gotten a call from her caretaker, about an hour earlier, who said if he wanted to see his friend and say goodbye he needed to come right away. We were both quiet for a moment and then he asked me, "would I mind if instead of going to SFO, we first went to Oakland so he could go see her and say goodbye?" Seeing that I had all night, my plane didn’t leave until 6:30 in the morning, I said, "Of course". So into Oakland we went. Me and Sam in this huge and empty bus. We got to where she lived. Sam quickly darted out of the bus while I stayed behind. I looked out the window, I didn’t know where I was, it didn’t look like a safe neighborhood, my mind started to have fearful thoughts, but I felt i was okay. He had left all his stuff in the bus, and of course the bus itself. I checked the street signs so I knew where I was in case I needed to call the police, and the police were just down the street anyway with some kind of police action that was going on. I waited in the bus for about 10 minutes, 15 minutes at the most and then Sam returned crying and thanking me profusely for letting him go see his friend to say goodbye. He couldn't stop thanking me and said that he owed me. I said, "Of course you don't owe me. I'm not in a hurry and this just seemed the right thing to do. I feel honored to be here with you at this time.” We continued on to SFO while we talked about how to honor the memory of his dear friend/guardian angel. I suggested he light a candle for her when he got home. He really liked that idea. He then shared about his children, and how proud he was of them and how much he loved them, one graduating from seventh grade, and another graduating from the JC. He shared about his wonderful life and wife and how blessed he was for all of it. This was such a beautiful moment for me. The meeting of two strangers with vastly different lives, but for some reason I and this soul got to meet and connect in such an intimate way. I feel honored to have been witness to all of this. June 2023 This weekend my son, Tristan, graduated from the Santa Rosa Junior College. He will be transferring to UC Davis and majoring in Economics in the fall. This time is oh so bittersweet. While so proud and happy for my son, I wasn't prepared for the sadness that I would feel. These milestones in a fleeting life are a big deal. From the current experience, opportunity arises spontaneously to reflect on one’s life. The joys, the sorrows, the struggles and the triumphs. And the fact that these beautiful souls that you’ve nourished and raised are going away. They don’t need you in the same way. They’ve even grown beyond you and most likely they have a wisdom far beyond your own wisdom. I know that I see that in my kids. I'm often in awe of them. I recently heard a meditation teacher say, “The goal of a Master is to create more Masters, not more students.” In the same way, we do our best to raise up our children so that they can go out into the world, thrive in their lives, and contribute to society in a meaningful way. We hope and pray that we’ve given all that we could so that they may have a deep connection to the truth and light inside of themselves and that connection inside will help them to weather any storm that may come. In this season of graduations, endings and new beginnings, I offer these words from Buddha, to my son, to graduates, and to all of us. “Be a light unto yourself. Hold fast to the truth. Look not for refuge to anyone but yourself. The light and truth is inside of you.”
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