The Reward is the Journey

It's gotten colder. Quite a bit colder, actually. I woke up to a fluttering of snow on Saturday. It was crisp and bright. Winter made her long awaited appearance. It was the most beautiful day to give my long winter coat (something of a favourite that rarely fails to attract remark amongst my generously complimentary friends) it's first outing of the season.  I was attending a Study Day in central London meaning that I didn't manage to really greet the elements until Sunday.  The pool beckoned mid morning, after the Club races had concluded, at which time I swam mostly toute seule. My swims follow something of a predictable routine: creature of habit that I am... I get changed quickly and sit on the edge at the deep end, legs dangling, gauging the temperature whilst I adjust my swimming caps (I have been wearing two since the end of September; silicone for now, to be replaced with neoprene shortly).  My toes alerted me to the fact that the te...

Teaching with Sarah was something I had been looking forward to for some time... The idea came about a little while back, when Sarah returned from India having completed her yoga teacher training. The theme came to us without much need for deliberation. Life has thrown plenty at both of us recently and we have found ourselves staying close (rather than clinging) to 'Let Go' as something of a mantra... For me, teaching on a Saturday involves letting go of several things: my typical routine gets adjusted. The same is I know true for most who attend the weekend workshops: we let go of things in order to come along. Attending is a choice. Choice involves sacrifice. And that's worth acknowledging.  The hatha based practice was just what I needed. My body welcomed it. And has reminded me of it since (thanks, Sarah!). Moving before sitting seems to work well for most bodies.  Ajahn Chah's statement makes sense:  If you let go a little, you will ...

Saying goodbye is, I have learnt, not an event but a process.  It cannot be rushed, and happens in a timescale that cannot be controlled.  We let go of anything, only when we are entirely ready.  Saying goodbye is no different.   I have, I realise, been saying goodbye in waves.  I have gone through several important phases:  each of them non negotiable.  Indescribable, intangible, every one has been inescapable.  I have endured the sense of loss imprinted on me, in a way I see now I carry far more easily. Until we are able to wear our loss, we are incapable of shedding it.  We shed loss only when we are ready to be without it.  By which time it has carried us, and transformed us.  We are ready to move forward.  We may, once again, live on.   You can shed tears that she is gone or you can smile because she has lived. You can close your eyes and pray that she’ll come back or you can open your eyes...