Healing

I've been thinking quite a bit lately about how we each have the power to heal one another in various forms--words, the act of listening, prayer, and touch.

Think about how much more significant something becomes when it's said with even the slightest touch--even an introduction is more powerful when a handshake is firm.

I have a friend I was lucky enough to live with in France, who, every time she shared a laugh with you, would look you straight in the eye and grab your forearm.

It was so powerful for me that when I think of her thirteen years later, that is what stands out. Her grip was so full of a shared love it just made you feel good, laugh harder. The energy we share and transmit can be just as healing as it can perhaps be depleting.

Last night, at the end of the yoga class I taught, I apologized for my wrist cracking and popping as I gave people head and neck adjustments in savasana. We all laughed, but I was especially taken by the woman who said, "It's such a bonus, your touch, that I leave feeling even better than I thought I could."

When I first began teaching yoga, I had to accumulate Karma Yogi hours--time spent teaching yoga for free (because, well, you know, you can't charge people when you're terrible).

I had a bank of guinea pigs in the staff at my school, and a dedicated ten of them allowed me to guide them through asana and pranayama (fancy pants words for poses and breath), but really, they came for the head and neck adjustment at the end.

And that was all fine by me--I wanted to heal and help in anyway I could, and for them it was always the power of touch.

One of those ten was a woman named Trish, who taught across the hall and down from me for five years before she decided to take an early retirement to do, well, the fun things retirees do. For her, it would be time spent with kids and grandkids, and helping her daughter run her cupcake truck business.

(Duh...cupcakes all day or stinky sixth graders? Um...cupcakes!)

In January of this year, she emailed and asked if she could still come to the yoga classes I was holding in my classroom. She needed a good head and neck adjustment. :)

She brought her check book to her first class back in my stinky classroom, which I promptly told her to put away. She then offered to pay me in cupcakes. How could I refuse?

I led her and a few other teachers through poses and breath, and then everyone's favorite part--the healing power of touch and the coveted head and neck adjustment.

I didn't see Trish again.

Two weeks after her return she was diagnosed with inoperable brain tumors.

She passed away this morning.

And for me--what I can't seem to let go of--is that the last place I touched so lovingly and with such good mojo...was her head.

My first few years teaching I was lucky enough to have a principal I adored.

His name was Mark, and he had the biggest heart, kindest soul, and softest demeanor.

After his departure, I was told the story about how Mark, a devout Christian, would arrive well before the staff and walk the halls, praying at each teacher's room--for strength, and courage, and confidence, and patience, and anything else he deemed necessary.

That building needs Mark.

For the second time this summer, they will bury one of their own.

I went for a run this morning without my kids--I needed to, for lack of a better word, cleanse. It is really hard to run and cry at the same time, so it was good to not focus on the sadness.

My mind kept repeating lyrics to one of my favorite yoga songs (Om Narayana) by Wade Imre Morissette, and I end this blog post with them because they embody the absolute sweet spirit of Trish...and the spirit of our ability to heal one another--maybe not in the medical sense, but in the much more powerful sense of healing emotions through touch, prayer, words, love.

Joy on the inside and peace on the outside,
Loving on the inside and laughing on the outside,
Kissing on the inside and healing on the outside,
Flowing on the inside and thriving on the outside,
Clearing on the inside and accepting the outside,
Shining on the inside and shining on the outside.

Shine on, Trish...Shanti Om.