Dear friends,

Our pets are some of our greatest teachers. They effortlessly demonstrate how to be present. They show us how to listen to the body’s wisdom, play with abandon, delight in simple joys, rest without guilt – and that we should get treats on a regular basis! They embody unconditional love. And they remind us of life’s hardest truth: nothing lasts forever – everyone we love will someday die. 

What is all of that, if not the teachings of yoga?

Last Friday, we said goodbye to our sweet 18½-year-old cat, José, aka Josélito, Bubba, Bubs, PuddleCat. He was a gentle, grounding presence in my partner’s life for more than 10 cherished years, and in mine for 7. This cat was the King of Chill. He had an amazing way of melting into whatever surface he chose to sleep on. His long, floofy gray fur made him look much larger than he actually was, and I’m certain we will be finding it around the house and on our clothes for years to come. In his more agile days, he would wander over and curl up beside me during my home Restorative practice, embodying stillness in the most natural way. I like to think he came over to show me how it should be done. Some of you may have seen him wander through the screen while I was teaching online. And his power purrrrrrrrs… you could hear them across the room. 🥰

This was not the first time I’ve had to say goodbye to a beloved being, and yet it doesn’t seem to get easier. Each loss cracks my heart open in a new way, reminding me that the soaring heights of love are always reflected in the deep pools of grief. And the two become indelibly entwined in the landscape of my life.

As my partner and I grieve, celebrate, and honor José's beautiful life, I’m reminded (again) that change is constant and life is precious. Hug or snuggle your loved ones if you can, and at the very least, tell your beloveds that you love them – today, while you can.

With love and a tender heart,

Adrift

by Mark Nepo

Everything is beautiful and I am so sad.
This is how the heart makes a duet of 
wonder and grief. The light spraying 
through the lace of the fern is as delicate 
as the fibers of memory forming their web 
around the knot in my throat. The breeze 
makes the birds move from branch to branch 
as this ache makes me look for those I’ve lost 
in the next room, in the next song, in the laugh 
of the next stranger. In the very center, under 
it all, what we have that no one can take 
away and all that we’ve lost face each other. 
It is there that I’m adrift, feeling punctured 
by a holiness that exists inside everything. 
I am so sad and everything is beautiful.