Sunday morning I got up early and headed to the nearby park with a book and my coffee. It was a beautiful morning and I wanted to get some nature time in before the thunderstorms were due to roll in.

I settled on a bench, opened my book and was immediately drawn back to my surroundings. A hydro guy was making some extra bucks 50 yards away working on a pole. There were runners and walkers and dogs everywhere; rush hour at the park. I noticed an elderly oriental gentleman, wearing cotton blue and white striped pajama pants. He sat for awhile on his bench. I was waiting. I knew what he was going to do. And finally he stood and began welcoming his day with a series of exercises derived from Chi Gung and Tai Chi.

As I sat there I felt....jealousy. I admired him and wanted to join him in my own way. I wanted to jump up from my bench, climb up on the gigantic flat rocks that adorn the flower garden and perform a series of Sun Salutations. But, I was afraid. Afraid of looking silly. Here I was, a 33 year veteran of yoga, AND a teacher, AND someone who has worked endlessly to eradicate fear of ANYTHING out of my system....and I was sitting on my keister....longing.

I watched the rush hour die down, stole a sidelong glance at hydro guy, and asked my inner voice what to do. Who answered was my inner warrior. She said....GET UP. CLIMB THE ROCKS. AND GET MOVING.

So I did. The first posture I teach my students is called Tadasana: Mountain Pose. I have them stand with their feet together. I tell them to breathe deeply from their belly. Long, deep, steady inhales and exhales. Then I tell them to imagine their feet rooted in the earth. Rising up from the earth through the crown of their head, reaching for the sky; they stand solidly and strong. They are pure power and peace. They just....ARE.

I faced the sun thus and began. As my hands met over my head in anjali mudra (prayer pose), I could see the sun between my arms. As I swung down on the exhale to touch the ground, I could see my elderly friend performing his own dance. Of course, I was looking at him upside down and between my legs, so the grinning started. I thought it was a hoot and it filled me with laughter and joy. I sent out a silent message to him....a thanks....for being in the right place, at the right time, to remind me of something I already know. It's my world too. The air. The ground. The rocks. The trees. To be one with it and celebrate life by flinging myself up and down, and letting go of fear in the process is very cool.
As he left the park, he grinned at me and nodded.

I'm facing another fear today. My beautiful little cat, my friend, has come to the end of her journey with me. She's very sick and sometime today, she will have to leave me. My Dad said I could wait outside the office while the vet takes care of her, but I think no. She has been with me and comforted me through every imaginable loneliness and trauma for over 9 years. The last honour I can do for her is to hold her and let her hear my voice whispering my love as she falls asleep for the last time.

Eleanor Roosevelt said, "You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face...you must do the thing you cannot do." To celebrate life so fully one day, and to mourn so fully the next. That is the way of it. So better to acknowledge the fear and then respectfully let it go....because beyond fear is peace. Do something today that you're afraid of. It gets easier every time you "do the thing you cannot do." I promise you.

I was speaking to a friend about love. He was badly betrayed by his young love, his forever love. He cannot conceive of ever being hurt like that again, and as a result has closed his heart to hope.

My heart breaks for him.

There are wonders in being held by safe and loving arms that exist no place else on earth. There is more safety having your heart held tenderly by someone who has stood strong and true for you, than all the years you've fought to keep your longing locked inside. Belief has to start somewhere. Let it start small. But never let it stop. Believe that you have the right to be loved. Believe that there is joy waiting for you. Believe that you need never be lonely again. Just believe.

I was reading the most beautiful love poem I have ever seen. It was written by a man for his wife.....called Love Sonnet LXXXIX. Pablo Neruda died in 1973, but his words are a balm for the ages. I always hoped, if I had a true love, I would read it to him. He wrote,

"When I die, I want your hands on my eyes: I want the light and wheat of your beloved hands to pass their freshness over me once more: I want to feel the softness that changed my destiny.
I want you to live while I wait for you asleep. I want your ears still to hear the wind, I want you to sniff the sea's aroma that we loved together, to continue to walk on the sand we walk on.
I want what I love to continue to live and you whom I love and sang above everything else to continue to flourish, full-flowered:
So that you can teach everything my love directs you to,
So that my shadow can travel along in your hair, so that everything can learn the reason for my song."

If I had a true love, I would read that to him today and again when he's 85 and has to leave me for the last time. I would want him to wait for me asleep.

The poets say it well. There is love....there is everlasting love. But the one passage that says it all goes like this:

Love is patient. Love is kind. Love is not jealous or boastful. It is not arrogant or rude. Love does not insist on its own way. It is not irritable or resentful. It does not rejoice at wrong, but rejoices in the right. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. There is faith, hope and love....and the greatest of these is love.

1 Corinthians, 13 (4-7)

I would say to my friend and to all of you, who have been hurt, betrayed and drained of hope....if you find someone who has endured "all things"; who believes with a faith so strong that nothing can shake their belief in you....not temptation, not separation, not anger, not sorrow; who's hope for you and your happiness equal their own; who has loved you against all odds....then you will know what the poets are speaking of.

And it's out there....for all of us. Just keep your mind and heart open and believe again.

Someone asked, what's with the short dramatic blog last time? I flippantly replied, well so am I.

What's the difference between short and dramatic and long-winded and dramatic? I can be both. I guess it was the "punch" effect I wanted.

When you think about it, all of life's most profound messages contain very few words.
I'm broke.
I'm sick.
I'm afraid.
I'm angry.
I'm worried.
I'm lost.
I like you.
I hate you.
I love you.

What Steve Jobs had to say on the subjects of life and death touched my heart. He was handed a reprieve and vowed to live each day from now on as if it was his last. I almost died once, in 1988. I remember them saying she's in shock, and I remember the most pleasant feeling of drifting, of peace...of joy. I didn't want to die. Perhaps I wasn't even aware that's what I was doing. Following the emergency surgery that saved my life, I wasn't so joyful anymore. The pain of recovery blotted out the near transcendent journey I was going to take.

When I ask myself honestly though, whether it was that experience that turned me into a LIFE fanatic, I'd have to say no. I still had more to learn. For myself, I have taken my life lessons in the intervening years....the cruel ones....to step up and stand up for life, joy, happiness and especially love.

I am attempting to throw away the need to live in the future and more and more am finding my joy in the very moment I inhabit. I'm going to lose my job in just over three weeks. In the past, I would have been thrown into depression and nail-biting frenzy, moaning and crying....what am I going to do? Now, I am calm and am certain that all will play out as it should....in my favour, better than before and am facing just one more exciting act in my precious life.

I can't choose for you....how you're going to live your life. All I can do is make suggestions, tell anecdotes, share what I have learned, and leave you to make your own choices. All I can promise is that whatever you fear....it's no where near as bad as how you're going to feel if you don't take some chances in your one short life. If you don't take some time to LIVE.

The bills you fret over, the deadlines at work that are driving you crazy, the impossible schedules and make-busy chores that seem so important are the minutia, the details of life....the time-wasters, the life-takers. The life you want to live is outside of all that. It's the air you breathe, the pleasure you feel, the faces you love. Everything has it's place and time, just make sure you give it the time it's worth. Minutes for bills. Hours for work. Years for love.

It only takes a shift in perspective to turn a day or a life into what it was meant to be.

Have a good one.

I listened to something this weekend that touched me profoundly. Go to www.robinsharma.com and listen to his podcast #40. It's titled "Steve Jobs on Life".

Over the course of the past ten years, and certainly during the life of this website, I have left no illusions that I believe life is meant to be lived....for too soon comes the end of it.

When you listen to the podcast, when you read my words, ask yourself, what am I afraid of? The answer should be simple. Nothing.

Namaste,

Linda

I asked a friend tonight a very hard question. I'm awaiting his reply and decided to write this before I read his answer.

During my quest for "enlightenment" doing the usual seeker things like pondering the universe and my place in it; opening myself up to new ideas and a different way of seeing things....I noticed that I have changed tremendously. Well, not so much changed, as brought forth the person I've always hidden inside.

I asked my friend if I'm "too much". It's something I've thought about for a long time. Am I too passionate; too loving; too emotional; too accommodating; too compassionate; too loud; too forgiving; too patient; too trusting; too possessive; too enthusiastic; too cerebral; too EVERYTHING? I have a feeling I know what his answer will be, and I'm bracing myself for the worst, because I'm also too sensitive. Too curious for sure. Too brave not to ask. And too relentless a seeker to let this chance for an honest exploration of my personality to go by.

There are some things I know I'm not "too". I'm never too critical, too hurtful or too hard on people; too drunk, too late, or too lazy. I'm too demanding on myself to stoop to wanton criticism, uncontrolled fury or the need to get back and get even. I'm too disciplined to lose control, knowingly inconvenience someone or give less than my best to any endeavour.

I know I can be too annoying, too brazen and too bold. I say too much when the occasion calls for silence; and I can be too silent when the occasion calls for a rejoinder. I take too much on, take too much grief from people and take the high road too often.

I sneaked a peek at my friend's reply. He cautioned balance.

I spent the majority of my life walking the tightrope between "too" and "not enough".
It was boring.

Since my radical shift that came almost too late, I have experienced more wonders, more love and more fulfillment than I could ever have hoped for. My world is wild with possibility and my choice to embrace a more loving and thoughtful path has brought me great joy.

In this world where days can be too long, filled with too much work, too many responsibilities resulting in too much fatigue, loneliness and despair....I believe that too much love, optimism and support is not a bad way to establish "balance".

If I care "too much", if I say "too much", if I laugh "too much" or praise "too much"....think about the alternative. And be patient with me. I am trying too hard, before it's too late, to alter my world and those I love with too much happiness. Can there be such a thing?

My Mom asked me to read her my latest blog. They haven't unpacked their computer yet. So I read, heard her sniffling and asked what she was crying about. But I knew why. She's proud of me and probably wondering, who is this person I've known all my life. Then she asked me, "Why don't you talk like this in real life honey?" I laughed and said, "Are you crazy? Who talks like that in real life Mom?"

Think about it.

You're setting down a cup of coffee in front of your sweetheart one morning and do you say, "How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach...I love thee to the level of every day's most quiet need, by sun and candlelight...I love thee with the breath, smiles, tears of all my life...and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death."

This sonnet by Elizabeth Barrett Browning is the world's best-known poem of pure romantic love ever written. Elizabeth Barrett and Robert Browning lived one of the greatest love stories of all time. We know about them. But what about us ordinary people? Inside all of the houses and apartments and huts, on beaches, in tents and on-line, wherever two people find a home together, how do we know how their love plays out? There could be Elizabeths and Roberts by the millions, burning with profound love...the kind that fills you so deep, there's hardly room for breath and beating heart...the kind that songs can't describe...the forever kind.

But what do you say to that sweetie...your knight in shining armor, your hero, your beloved...the man you'd kill for, fight beside, do anything for? If they're lucky, a breezy "Love ya babe", and an occasional Hallmark card that takes care of the rest.

Even me. I hide behind my computer. I can wax as poetic as any Elizabeth Barrett Browning over a voice mail...but in real life I have never put myself to the test of holding my naked heart in my hands and offering it and all the wondrous words at my disposal to a beloved. Who would die first I wonder? Me out of terror of sounding ridiculous? Or the guy, out of horror, thinking he has to respond?

We just don't do that nowadays. It's not cool.

And it's not just romantic love that turns us all into pretty good imitations of mimes. It's our everyday transactions with just about everyone in our lives.

My Mom knows I love her. I've phoned her every day without fail for a quarter of a century. We chitchat and catch up on the days events. I bitch. She soothes. We laugh. What would she do if I talked to her the way I do in my blogs? What if I said, "Mom, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever known. You are grace and dignity. Your gentle spirit and kindness surround you like a bright light. You taught me how to be a woman. A good woman, just like you. You were the first person to hold me, and even though I'm going to be 50 this year, when your arms fold around me, I feel as cherished as the day you gave me life. Without you to believe in me, without your example, without your unending patience and love, I would not be half the woman I am today. I love you without end and I'm really, really, really sorry that I put that burn hole in your beautiful red dress in 1981 when I borrowed it to go dancing in."

I'll find out, because tomorrow when I call to chat over coffee, I'll read her my blog.

I often wonder why it's so easy for us as humans to say all the hurtful, wounding words. But when it comes to telling someone all the good stuff, we clam up and ice over in fear. If I don't die of embarrassment tomorrow when I read to my Mom, I'll let you know how it feels to speak the words of love we all carry in our hearts...then maybe you can try it too. I'm thinking it's never too late, until it IS too late. And that's why I'm taking a lesson from Elizabeth Barrett Browning. She died far too young in her beloved's arms...but he never had to wonder at the depth of her love. She told him.

I'm reading a book featuring Will Durant (historian/philosopher) called "The Greatest Minds and Ideas of All Time." In the first chapter Durant is quoted, "Of the many ideals which in youth gave life a meaning and radiance missing from the chilly perspectives of middle age, one at least has remained with me as bright and satisfying as ever before...the shameless worship of heroes. I take my stand...and light my candles...at the shrines of great men...How natural it seemed to greet the great Indian poet Rabindranath Tagore by that title which so long had been given him by his countrymen, Gurudeva (Revered Master)...for why should we stand before waterfalls and mountaintops, or a summer moon on a quiet sea, and not before the highest miracle of all: a man who is both great and good?"

I talked about heroes briefly back in April. But reading Durant's words made me think it's a subject that has meaning for all of us and deserves greater thought.

I remember a number of years ago when I did an exercise in which we were asked, off the top of our heads, to name our "historical" heroes; people we would have as allies if it were possible to transport them to our sides. Quite quickly my list comprised Leonardo da Vinci, Einstein, Gandhi, Walt Disney, Helen Keller, Elizabeth the 1st, Augustus, Shakespeare, Ramses the 2nd, Jacques Cousteau and yes, Rabindranath Tagore.

What a stellar cast! All of them leaders; courageous; all of them supremely spiritual and gifted with the ability to see beyond what is to what could be. All of them, in their lifetime, confronted adversity and some of them, even assassins.

In the same exercise we were asked to pick fictional heroes/allies. From the pages of books, from television, I gathered together a group of kick-ass men and women who appeal to the me I want to be. Sean Dillon (ex-IRA enforcer, turned good guy for the British government). He is cool, unflappable, and always gets the bad guy. Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Zena, Warrior Princess. Yep. Girls after my own heart. Captain Kirk...for bravery. Sherlock Holmes...for pure intellect and logic. And Kwai Chang Caine from the series Kung Fu...for his compassion and serenity.

Not bad role models.

But not all my heroes are dead or inventions.

With apologies to my parents, who always have been and always will be my heroes, I'll side-step them for now to focus on others who give great meaning to my life and who probably never take the chance to look at themselves the way I see them.

One friend, whom I cherish, is a prime example of a seemingly ordinary man who is anything but. He has the ability to see the world, not in black and white terms, but in all the colours of the rainbow. This trait is one that I'm sure gives him the greatest pause. He will take a stand on what is right or what he believes is right for him, and then...I've watched it happen a hundred times...he will step back from his own perspective and step up and step forward to enrich someone else's life. I believe he views that as capitulation and weakness. I view that as his strength. One of many. He is a thinker, a compassionate provider, and a man who is taking steps to believe in wonder and joy. He is my hero.

Another friend whom I adore beyond measure is one of those women who stand out for their lovely feminine attributes and aura of fun; but who has faced tragedy and adversity with grace and dignity. When I am with her I am surrounded by peace. She has taken the opportunity to "spend" her life lessons to buy great amounts of compassion and patience. As a friend, she is a gift. As a teacher she is without peer. She is my hero.

One of my beloved aunts has been slowly beset by physical travails over the past decade. She just turned 70, but keeps her part-time job. When I ask why she doesn't retire, she breezily responds, why would I do that, I love it. Her spirit is indomitable and she has never once complained about her physical limitations. Auntie, you are courage itself. You are my hero.

We all need heroes. They are the teachers without whom we could not learn how to be the best we can be. Most people don't know they are heroes. They're too busy learning to be the best they can be. So tell them :)