In the words of Albert Einstein, “You never really understand something until you can explain it to your grandmother.” What does this mean? Basically, until you can explain something in its simplest terms, you don’t fully understand it. I keep this quote in the back of my mind whenever I start writing about Yoga. Indeed, how would I go about explaining the intricacies of the inclusive nature of Yoga to someone immersed in the exclusive practice of Christian fundamentalism?
I grew up with my grandparents from the age of 12. My grandfather worked in the Texas oil fields for 40 years while he also practiced as a Methodist pastor, had a prison ministry, and presented a weekly “Good News” radio program. While he utilized his voice to spread The Word, my grandfather pretty much kept to himself. He was a quiet man. My grandmother was a stay-at-home “mom.” She was anything but quiet. She had a robust laugh, a voice that had been aged by a life of struggle and West Texas dust, and she rarely kept her opinions to herself. My grandmother had a very good heart and a joyful spirit…attributes that were often hard for me to see because they had been incased in layers of hardship.
I really didn’t appreciate my grandmother fully until after she passed away. After all, the deepest impressions of her had been imprinted in my mind during the tumultuous teen and twenty-something years. I believed her to be incredibly controlling and judgmental and she regularly self-validated these traits by casting choice verses from the Bible at me. According to the word of God I was not good enough and would never be good enough. I was, put simply, unworthy.
As a result, I’ve spent a lifetime (or at least the time up until her death – and perhaps I’m even still caught up in that cycle) trying to win her approval…getting into high profile schools, earning degrees, publishing research, performing in highly respected venues, etc., …none of it evoked more than a “hmmm…” from my grandmother.
So, you can imagine the feeling I had when I began my inquiry into Yoga (after my grandmother’s death), and one of the highly respected teachers at Kripalu looked me in the eyes and said with the greatest sincerity, “You…. are Divine.” Divine? Me? Could it be that somewhere inside of me God resides? That God is not separate from me but in me? Would God hang out in unworthy places? Could it be that I am worthy? What a moment of shift…a seismic earthquake, really.
My grandmother was not the only one who was judgmental. I’m not proud to say it, but being judgmental was also a trait of mine, especially when it came to my father, my grandmother’s son. Why was I living with my grandparent’s anyway? Well, my mother died when I was 12 and my father just wasn’t in a place to take on the responsibility of raising a child…he was/is an alcoholic. As you might presume, I did not have the fondest feelings toward my father…quite the opposite…there was a lot of anger. My grandmother was also a classic enabler, which only fueled my adolescent animosity toward them both. My relationship with my father was really more of a sibling rivalry. He was the prodigal son always being welcomed with the fatted calf as I strove for acceptance only to be met with that ever resounding “hmmm…”
I completed my Yoga Teacher Training (YTT) at Kripalu in the summer of 2007 in a month-long intensive. Needless to say, there was a lot of “processing” that took place. By the end of the month, I was ready to go home and didn’t think any more processing could possibly be done in those last few days. But here is what happened…
The last full day of teacher training, one of our teachers created a lovely ritual for us out in the Kripalu labyrinth. I didn’t know much about labyrinths at the time, which perhaps makes this experience that much more potent. It was a warm July morning, a good deal of humidity was in the air and there was not a cloud in the sky. Basically, it was hot…and I was tired…and the Kripalu labyrinth is large. At the beginning of this walk my mind just wasn’t there. I was thinking about going home… that I needed to pack…wondering how long we were going to be out in the hot sun…I should have put on sunscreen. Then suddenly I began to be drawn into the experience.
There were seventy or so of us walking…yes, it’s big. But what I began to notice was how in one moment I would be completely on the other side of the labyrinth from a friend, and then suddenly we would be right next to each other, sometimes traveling in the same direction for many steps before parting ways. And when I thought our paths would never align again, they somehow magically did. Then, there were people with loud and annoying voices walking behind or next to me, and just when I’d made peace with fact their voices were going to be a part of my experience, they would disappear. Wow! This is just like life, isn’t it!
At the center of the labyrinth is a small alter where anyone is invited to leave an offering or a prayer. As I approached the heart of this experience I noticed something big and bright in the center of the alter. Surrounded by offerings of flowers, pinecones, prayers and coins, was a 3 X 5 turquoise card. It was similar to a playing card. The edges were worn and one corner had been dog-eared. It looked as if someone had been carrying this card with them for many years. At the top of the card was my father’s name and written underneath were the words “One who is like God.” First came an immense silence. Then, my eyes became flooded with tears, and my heart with forgiveness. My father, who I had for years judged as unworthy, was indeed himself, of God, flaws and all. He was/is worthy too!
I like to believe that my grandmother left that card for me at the alter…that she knows I have forgiven my father, and… that I’ve forgiven her. That now, both she and I can see everything as Holy. Because simply put, seeing God in everything and everyone is the practice of Yoga.
