The patients at my clinic know I’m
leaving. There are a hundred stories to tell about that. I’ll
start with today’s.
After the “Oh, no!” and “I’ll
miss you,” people get marvelously practical.
“What are you going to do with that
“What about that painting of the
Yesterday I gave away all of the kids’
toys to a little girl whose smile wrapped right around her face when
she heard the offer. She has four siblings at home. As soon as I
put the toys in a bag, she made a dash for the door, as though I
might change my mind any second.
Another patient took my front desk
chair with her. She’s coming back on Friday for my coat rack.
Yet another friend carried one of my
portable tables back to his office. It’s a large table. I asked
if he was going to be all right walking three blocks. “If it gets
heavy,” he said, “I’ll stop and have a nap. Or just a
Savassana.” We laughed.
It made me wonder whether I could ever
declutter my life enough, my mind enough, to do Savassana on a
I love Savassana in class. I love it
at home. But wouldn’t it be glorious to feel open enough, safe
enough, at-one-with-everything enough to completely let go in
Savassana on the sidewalk outside your office?
There’s my fantasy for the day. Have
you done that? Would you? (Send pictures if you do!) Street
Savassana. We could start something, here.
Thanks to four-year-old Vanessa, thanks
to JoEllen, and thanks to Ben. Thanks to yoga for offering gifts
that wrap smiles around our faces. And thanks to you, always,
for the conversation,