To be seen.
To arrive again and again: heart bared, emotional, somatic wounds revealed, a rich and tender vulnerability.
This is studentship.
This is arriving again and again.
Not arriving in order to be fixed by another, but rather to lay oneself out to be witnessed. Witnessed during the euphoria of falling in love, the wrenching pain of divorce or separation, the wonder of discovery, the confusion of loss, the bliss of surrender and the vice clamp of grasping.
Whatever life brings the yoga remains. It is always there and always present. Yoga doesn’t discern your external life circumstances or assess if you are good enough, or ready, just so that you can begin. It just is.
To be seen in all of our vulnerability and to experience in that a love that is beyond name and form, this is why I keep returning.
I’ve had the honor of holding a home sangha in San Francisco for over 16 years and we have seen each other rise and fall, find clarity and looe hope, build strength and crumble. We’ve given birth and lost love ones. We have been through all of the lifeness of living—of being human—and we remain, for each other. I have been arriving at this one spot for 16 years listening, breathing, sharing through love and loss, together and apart, winning and losing, birth and death.
I keep showing up. The teachings remain stronger than any one person. We take refuge in the larger view and the minutia of the moment.
What more to ask than to meet you again and again in all of the changing lights of day, of season, of decades?
To this day it feels new, nourishing, and thrilling.
Many have come and have gone. Some have returned. Some have not. Some have stayed. All have brought their humanness and longing.