Keep coming back

The day after Tim died, I went to a yoga class. And I felt nothing on my mat. It didn’t feel bad. It didn’t feel good. It simply felt like there was no heart in my practice.

Thursday evening was my night for Community Yoga taught by my wonderful friend Amy. So of course, I naturally went to my mat. And, I felt nothing.

I have been practicing yoga for 23 years and teaching for the last ten. I typically attend five classes per week. Yoga and meditation are important physical and spiritual pursuits for me. I feel like they both allow me to come out of my head, into my body and into my heart.

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So, I was surprised. I was even disappointed. Yes, I passed judgement on my yoga. I expected that this, of all places, would be the place where I could and would let go, and feel. And, I felt nothing.

But, I kept coming back. That’s the great thing about yoga. Each time you come to the mat, you meet yourself where you are. And I guess I had no idea where I was.

After a few weeks, I was finally able to shake some of the haze and actually tune into Amy’s nourishing words and hands-on assists, connect with my breath, get into my body, and respond from the heart. I kept coming back to my mat, and I got back to MY yoga.

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I also rejoined my weekly meditation group. I had been practicing the Twin Hearts meditation consistently for many months. For the first time in my life, I was actually finding ease in the stillness and grace of this twenty-one minute guided meditation. It felt like a place for me.

And then, seven months after Tim’s passing, something wonderful started to happen. He began joining me there. Every Tuesday evening. Week after week. He was there.  

Initially, I kept this to myself. Each week was a similar experience. As the meditation began, with my eyes closed, sitting in a circle with a small group of women that I had grown in friendship with, the tears began to flow.

Then during the silent part of the meditation, still with my eyes closed, I could see Tim. I could see him in front of me, but also see and feel him behind me. At my back, arms stretched out wide. As if he were protecting me. I could feel him there behind my back and at the same time, I could see him in front of me. Facing me.

Sometimes, he had a specific message. Other times, it was just a knowing that he was there to comfort me. Occasionally, I asked him a question. During the first week of stay-at-home orders, in my mind, I spoke to him. I told him I was scared, and I asked, what should I do? He said, “have hope and be kind.”

I eventually opened up to the group about what was happening. They were encouraging and supportive and a few times even shared their own knowing of Tim’s presence during the meditation.

As this continued, regularly, I came to anticipate that Tim would be there with me each week. It felt like he knew where to find me. That was a place I came to consistently and sat in stillness, even as we started meeting through Zoom during the Pandemic. He knew he could get my attention.

I am glad that he kept coming back, though I wasn’t concerned by the thought that he might not show up at some point. It’s okay. I get it. I told him. I know you have been here and you may come and go. And I am good with that.

I will keep coming back. I will meet myself on my mat. I will meet myself on my meditation cushion. And if I get to meet Tim there too, then it’s certainly a bonus day.