Friday

Today isn’t the Friday I had on my calendar at the beginning of the week. I didn’t make it to my yoga class this morning, the post I was going to put up was all sorts of wrong so I ditched it, and then I went to a funeral instead of a Christmas party.

All of this, I think, as I drive home from the service, all of this has elements of acceptance, of letting go, of being present, and in that sense today has been exactly what it should be.

The funeral isn’t my story to tell except to say that it was for someone very special, and there was talk of joy and hope and life because that’s what she was all about. In spades.

Standing outside in the sun, amidst the inevitable sadness and grief, there was nowhere else I would rather have been than right there, saying goodbye to my friend.

And, there was this little gem of a moment …

 

Beside me is a Small Boy (maybe four-ish) and an Older Woman (beautifully dressed and ageless). The Small Boy is wearing a small suit with a small tie and small, shiny shoes and his hair is generously gelled. He is alternating between staring at the plates of sandwiches being set out on the table inside and crossing his legs while hopping from one foot to the other. He doesn’t seem to be standing with his parents and the Older Woman has noticed him too.

She looks down at him and in an officious tone says, “I think you might need to use the lavatory.” This is not a question.

The Small Boy looks up in terror and then glances at me. I smile sympathetically but he’s already morphed into a ninja. He doesn’t need my help.

There’s a small pause and then: “I’m doing karate.”

With a hitch of his pants and a swing of his small tie over his shoulder the Small Boy presses down into the perfectly inverted A-shape of a Downward Dog.

He stays for a few deep breaths, comes up with a jump and a wipe of his hands. This is followed by a vigorous display of high kicks and whispered ‘hi-yahs’ as if he’s remembering instructions to keep quiet. Each round is completed with another Downward Dog. I don’t know if he realises this is what he’s doing but, of course, it appeals to my battered yogi heart.

It’s not long before the Small Boy’s mother has followed the crowd of admirers to collect him. He stops and nods his head, quite pleased with himself.

“That,” he says, “is quite clever. And I definitely don’t need to wee.”

The End.

 

– Jane

©The Yoga Connection