Walking the Talk: How My Spiritual Practices Support Me in My Daily Life

These are some of the questions that have come up for me most often:

What do we do with this precious life that has been given to us?

How do we make the best out of it in a way that is of greatest benefit to our own existence?

What else is there beyond the physical aspect of the self and the battles we create with ourselves?

How do we find our path towards enlightenment and profound healing, which would also mean the healing of all who surrounds us?

My recent trip to Mexico was an opportunity to contemplate my internal progress as a human being.  As I witnessed my mother’s physical challenges, I realized how easy it would be for anybody to go into despair and frustration, but instead of anguish and frustration as I experienced about three years ago when I realized the seriousness of my mother’s physical ailments for the first time, this time I felt so much love and empathy.  I even rejoiced at her ability to do certain things and told her how strong she was, how much better she was walking, how beautiful she looked, how much better she was doing.  All of that was true.  We laughed and had so much fun doing things together.  My pain and anguish had turned into joy and gratitude for being given the opportunity to be with my mother as she faces, perhaps, some of her most challenging times, and so do I.

As time went by, every time the caring for my mother was beginning to feel like a burden, I let my heart soften, realizing the preciousness of the moment.  Just like when I hold a challenging yoga pose, I asked myself: where can I soften? Where can I let go of? I breathed deeply, for myself and for my mother and every time I would come back to a place of deep compassion and understanding.  I let that love and compassion dictate my words and the words came out of my mouth with so much tenderness and full of acceptance of my mother’s present condition, reaffirming her that my love for her was unconditional and unending.  Our relationship deepened and I felt a deeper trust in her heart being born, trust towards me and towards life.  She knew everything was fine and things were just as they should be.  One day she said to me she had given birth to an angel.  It was the most precious compliment coming from my mother. I responded that we all are angels, but sometimes we are lost. Yes, I have also been there.

We talked about so many important subjects, including death.  Death is a topic not too many people want to discuss in a family and the subject is left in obscurity, even when we see death near and unavoidable.  “How much longer would you like to live, mom?”, I asked her one warm afternoon as we sat in the garden, contemplating the flowers and playful butterflies. “Maybe three more years.  I don’t want to become a burden”, she said looking at me with kind eyes.

Yes, I had imagined that my mother would think she was becoming a burden. I reassured her she was not.  On the contrary, I told her that without her, the world would never be the same.  My mom took a deep breath and smiled as I said those words.  Mainly, I reaffirmed to her that whatever she wanted for her own life should come out of her heart and soul with much calm and serenity, at peace with her life and her decision, knowing that she was loved and allowed to leave this world when she felt ready.  My mother agreed and added she was at peace with whatever the Divine had in store for her.

“Nobody knows what’s after this life, but it’s special”, she said with a sweet smile.

“That’s for sure, mom”, I answered. I took the opportunity to tell her about my own death and how I would want my lifeless body to be taken care of.

“I want to be cremated”, I said to her.

“I want to be buried”, she added, “just please don’t bring me the Mariachis and roses to the cemetery; I want the Mariachis and the roses now!”  We both laughed.  Our death conversation didn’t need to be somber and heavy.  We found a way to address it with jokes, honesty and laughter, and we both felt happy and at peace.

I saw that my internal progress had to do with my ability to take the opportunity I was given so I could see things with more clarity.  I saw how my yoga practice had helped me stay strong and grounded, inside and out, so that I could take good care of my mother’s needs, dressing her, bathing her, making meals, and so on, and still feel sane and be mindful of what I needed.  To be a care-giver is one of the most demanding but noble jobs, more so if it is your own parents you are taking care of.  It requires commitment, devotion, and a willingness to see the great lesson in it.  One day, in the garden, I gave my mother a rose limpia, and energetic cleansing that is a common practice in Mexico to help people re-connect to the sacredness of their bodies and Mother Earth.  I used beautiful pink roses I had bought the day before.  I asked her to set an intention as we initiated the limpia.  On her lap, she held a small water pot as a symbol of letting the waters cleanse her body and bring balance to her energies.  She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.  I asked her to smell the roses fragrance and as she did that, her face softened.  Her heart was open and ready to receive.  I passed the roses and the smoke of the Copal (tree resin) around her body as I bestowed her with all the blessings one could receive from the Universe.  When we ended the session, I asked her to hold fresh roses on her womb and heart.  My mother’s eyes were closed.  She was breathing gently. Her face was incredibly peaceful.  I sat next to her and we enjoyed the silence and each other’s presence for some time.   We were both focused on the breath, expanding and contracting in every way, physically and energetically. This was, to me, the most precious practice I have had so far.

She gradually opened her eyes and when she saw me, she burst into laughter.  I did, too.  We laughed for no reason.  Actually, there was a reason: in this life-time we had been given each other.  Our laughter was of joy and for the immense love we had for one another.  Life felt truly a miracle.  My spiritual practices had guided me towards that moment of complete connection and unending love, a moment in time where there was no pain, no resentment, no grasping, no questions, just pure love and complete peace between my mother and me.  I felt a profound gratitude towards everything, even the past painful experiences for they had been the greatest teachers that had taught me how to open my heart, find my path and see my journey so connected to my mother’s journey.

The rest of the trip was beautiful.  Soon it was time to come back to my home in the Bay Area, to my role as a teacher and eternal student of sacred practices.  It took me a few days to re-engage and see what it is that I am now supposed to teach as I move again into the role of a teacher.  What is  beyond our age? our appearance? our talk? our words? the things we don’t see?  How do we show up for the real challenges of life? how do we absorb and digest the knowledge of our experiences as human beings, friends, lovers, brothers, sisters, mothers and fathers and transmit what has been given to us?  These are the teachings and the wisdom we are inheriting from our parents.

In a month I felt I had grown much older, hopefully in wisdom.  My heart had expanded in unimaginable ways with gratitude.  My mother had been, once again, my greatest teacher and, in the silence of my home, I bowed to her and to the life that she represented, now and forever, happy that, before I departed, I was able to bring my Mother the Mariachis and the roses she so much loves.