A Tale of Two Rooms
(Wisdom of Children & A Father’s Heart)
The Wisdom of Children
Room #1:
Our studio is bubbling, filled with giggly children asking questions about the puppies brought to class and eyeing the brownies on the side table. Their energy is frenetic and life-affirming; it is infectious and filled with high vibrational energy. We begin with a grounding exercise so that we can begin our session - marking the second week of a five -week series on Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction for Teens.
I love this workshop!
When I was a child, I remember doing things that made absolutely no sense to the adults around me. I played in the dirt. Along with my brothers and sister, I would hurriedly make mud pies and put them in the wishing tree to bake. At the time, of course, it never occurred to us that the “pies” would never actually bake and that the “wishing tree” was just a tree, with a convenient hole in its trunk that we used as an oven. But it was our imaginations that allowed us to willfully wander in magic.
I played in vacant lots underneath weeping willows and created an entire world of make believe. In this world, there was no harm, no unfairness, no discontent. In this world, the boundaries of my imagination did not exist and the permission to use my imagination was not a requirement but rather, an integration of a natural mindset that existed in my childhood.
Although it may be a challenge to witness this within our own children today, I want to assure you - I witness their intelligence, their wisdom, their inner intuitive nature on a daily basis.
“It seems to me there are at least two types of wisdom: Intuitive and Depth Wisdom. ”
Intuitive wisdom can reside in any of us but is especially available to children.
Rabbi Harold Kushner, well-known author of When Bad Things Happen to Good People
Children help us to reclaim and remain in wonder which is of Spirit and is ever so pure.
There is a gift of deep wisdom, too: the wisdom that comes from experience. The gift of our depth of wisdom as adults holds and guides the younger ones among us. If we allow life wisdom and Spirit to teach us well, we have a greater capacity of non-judgement for those who are still learning.
“There is a wisdom in children, a kind of knowing, a kind of believing, that we, as adults, do not have.”
Yesterday was the second week of a five-week series with my Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction for Teens class workshop. These teens are filled with the kindest of words and the smartest of insights.
On Saturday, I brought my two dogs to help with reacquainting ourselves with one another but also to immediately introduce joy. Our time together isn’t always light. I mean, it’s not designed to be emotionally heavy that way, but sometimes there are thoughts and feelings that come up that aren’t exactly light hearted.
The purpose of the dogs is to remind us that their job is to give us joy, and more often than not, the response they receive are giggles and playfulness.
Words From A Father’s Heart
Room #2
As many of you know, we had a friend and fellow Mosaic Yoga instructor pass away a little over a week ago. Our studio was able to hold a candlelight memorial during his scheduled yoga class time slot last Thursday, and then a more formal memorial honoring and celebrating his life was held at Starks Funeral Parlor last Saturday.
An evening filled with jazz music, good food and the ever-present sounds of Jason’s loved ones; the many circles of friendships that Jason held close to his heart were remembered as a reflection of his full life.
“If you want to be happy, do not dwell in the past, do not worry about the future, focus on living fully in the present.”
One of the conversations held last night was with his sweet Chilean born and Venezuelan raised father who held a brief but heart-informative conversation with Michael and myself.
He then introduced us to the man who enlightened Jason as to the ways and means of Anusara Yoga. Standing tall and cheerful, this South African born Colorado resident met Jason in Miami and taught him the magic of alignment and caring for the body. Jason understood the value of such a practice, especially when one works the body hard through triathlon competitions and any sport designed to wear down the body.
He was an energetic man and I’m sure a brilliant teacher. He essentially changed the course of Jason’s life that affected all of us, as we soon then became Jason’s students.
When I think of how wondrous our human life roadmap crisscrosses across the globe, allowing the coordinates to present an axis point; an intersection of influence that alters our life forever - suddenly our path has changed and we find ourselves forever grateful for it all.
“There is no pain so great as the memory of joy in present grief.”
Short in stature and tall in human emotion, Jason‘s dad wanted me to know that he taught his son the love of food and cooking. He wanted me to know of how they connected with one another; this was evident in our conversation.
You see his dad is a physician, more specifically, a neurosurgeon. He talked about the difficulties and strains of a private practice and how he shifted to working in a hospital, which improved his life. He said the hospital community changed his practice for the better, as he was more challenged and could help more people.
I told him that Jason often talked about him and spoke of their relationship in terms of anatomy and specifically, of the mind body connection. Perhaps their conversations may have been more focused on the autonomic reflexes and connective tissues, but there was still a connection with his son that straightened his spine and allowed him to stand tall.
He stood close to me with his coat still on his body. Perhaps it was the cooler temperatures of Utah, as compared to his home of Los Angeles. Or perhaps his coat provided protection; the weight of it acting like a hug or protection from the spectrum of emotions activated in the room. In any case, he appeared to welcome the conversation we were having.
As the evening came to an end. I found myself saying goodbye to Jason’s father near the funeral parlor’s exit. I reminded him several times that his son was a good person, and that he did well raising him.
I found myself grasping both of his shoulders and pressing inward as if I were applying needed pressure toward his heart. I briefly continued pressing in from shoulder to elbow, repeatedly, reminding him that his son loved him, and that we were all fortunate to know him.
I thanked him for that.
“Do I want to be a hero to my son? No. I would like to be a very real human being. That’s hard enough.”
Summary of A Tale of Two Rooms
From the wisdom of these two separate rooms; one room filled with children and young teens who behold tremendous wisdom, and share their thoughts and emotions freely and unconventionally.
Then the second room experienced a mere two hours later, crowded with warm bodies, loud music, good food and a father grieving his beloved son with a desire to let us, in this particular moment, feel his heart.
I am reminded that I am a fortunate being to witness both scenarios … of love and that love permeates both the wonder of innocence and the grief of losing our loved ones. Love is a force, is the connective tissue and what we source from in being held in community.
