on moving through the world

I went to play music in a Thanksgiving gratitude/fundraising yoga class yesterday. (also my first full yoga practice return after hip-surgery!)

At the end, I played my song, "lucky", as my fellow yogi's lay in savasana...
There's something so profound about singing and playing as delicately as one can muster, so as not to be harsh on their resting souls....

After class, a woman greeted me. We've been yoga studio acquaintances for a few y
ears, but I hadn't been there in several months, since yoga had become too inflammatory towards the end of my PRE-surgery days. I'm casually asking, "how's life?" and noticing a subdued air...She then realized how long it's been since I was there...and shares that she lost her 19 year old son to a hiking accident over the summer, and this is a very hard (first of many) holidays to face.

By the end of this visit over rolled mats in arms, we are hugging and weeping, and she's telling me how my song brought her to tears on the mat, especially the words "...we were lucky, to land in this place and time.." and how she intends to rephrase how she thinks about having had 19 years with this child.

On the way to the car, another classmate shared that he was about to head to his ex-wife's home for Tday, with their adult kids, and tho he was a little nervous, how much he appreciated this place of going "...from love to hate and back to love.." I went home to my quiet cottage completely full of gratitude. absorbing the moments, and continuing to process it all. I am grateful for this life and so many experiences within.

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