On the way to teach yoga, after observing the darkness of the February day and the darkness that wanted to take root at my heart, the sky exploded. There was such beautiful vitality in it, I was transfixed: Lightening shot out across the sky, gales of winds and sheets of rain shook my car. I had to stop.
I became aware of a large power line above my head swaying back and forth, of branches and small trunks of trees being whipped about and as I watched I became aware of the rising of fear. “At least I kissed Robbie goodbye, just in case.” I heard myself and paused again. “What if I am witnessing magic? It’s full moon brilliant magic!” Pause. And then the wind slowed down, the rain started to ebb and I drove the last 2 miles to my class.
There is a type of vitality that lies in even the darkest places of the heart. Sometimes lightening and the winds of emotions can uproot and pummel us in to some type of submission. But in those dark places there can be a type of magic, a magic that shows you the enormous power when all of you is allowed to come forward: darkness will always have some streak of lightening and in that streak lies your vitality.
Now I sit in my car again. Again transfixed: The full moon brightly beaming, the clearest blackest sky that only the calm after a large storm can bring. The air is cool and fresh, and I have just come from touching others hearts through movement, of having listened to an extraordinary teacher talk about awakening the heart, and as I sit here I can only feel grateful.
My hope is that everyone stayed safe and no one was injured. That all may delight in nature and all the wisdom it has to share. And for us to remember, to not give up hope, especially during these perilous times, that even in darkness, there is light.