Why I cried on the bus this morning…
I accept this part about my myself, and I can’t help but think that maybe if I share a bit of my craziness (as culture and society might label it) then perhaps it gives someone else permission to feel deeply the joy and blessings that they too have in their life.
The thing that I love about Life is that you never know when a moment is coming. It’s as if, in this love relationship with Life, there are surprises at every corner, floods of love and appreciation fill me in the most unexpected times. This is exactly what happened to me this morning.
I caught an earlier bus than I had ever ridden, arriving at the bus station at 6:40, so that I could make a yoga class at 7. Perhaps my soul was prepped by the iridescent pink sunrise that rose over the trees as I waited, or by the strap of my yoga mat presenting the weight of the class that was coming into my shoulder, as I felt a tangible relief in myself as I approached this day. As I took my seat on the bus, my eyes welled with tears at the thought that I was going, that today I could do yoga. I felt the presence and power of my body as a tool to bring me to peace. I felt the relief of my soul as it knew that there was now coming a time to be. The cells of my body laughed at the joy that they felt and that was altering them.
And this was all from sitting down in the bus.
Yet then, as we pulled up to the next stop, the bus driver approached me and asked me to move. I didn’t understand, but of course gladly complied. Then I saw him. An attractive young man wheeled himself into the place my seat used to be. The driver had lifted the whole row of seats and this man rolled himself into the place, allowing the driver to meticulously take some straps and attach them to his chair. Then man in the wheelchair took a gloved hand and drank from a sporty water bottle. He was clearly fit. You could tell he was a man who would have used his legs if he could.
Words, right now, are too small of containers to capture my suppliant gratitude towards Life for the gift of my legs.
The truth is, why should it be crazy that I couldn’t at that moment, and even now, stop crying out of gratitude that I have legs? Why can’t we celebrate what we have when he have it? Why can’t we pay homage to the aspects of Life and ourselves that serve us every day, not just in functional ways, but in spiritual ways too.
In the following yoga class each downward dog was a pilgrimage to this place of thankfulness. The run I dashed into from the bus to the class was a celebration of two of my best friends, my legs. The truth is, every movement and motion I take with them, is a gift of endless and greatest pleasure. It breaks my heart that not everyone can enjoy this gift, whether because they are disabled or simply distracted.
This isn’t about not taking anything for granted. This is about living a life so mindful and conscious of the life-force and ways you can use it that you can’t help but be moved in the small and dramatic moments of everyday life. It’s about being madly overwhelmed with gratitude when nothing but something inside of you has changed. It’s about loving and using every aspect of Life you have been given.