Remember

The inspiration this week was triggered by two things: Memorial Day and a Celebration of Life gathering. Here in the United States, Memorial Day is dedicated to the remembrance of those who've lost their life in service to the country. We pause, remember and say thank you for your service. This long-weekend coincided with a Celebration of Life event for our friend, tennis player, and member of our yoga tribe Mona Van Linge Redmond. Coming so close together, the impetus to pause and remember was powerful.

I was honored to be able to speak at Mona's gathering. We were tightly packed into a friend's house, literally shouldering our grief in a collective atmosphere. It was simply beautiful to hear the stories and recollections of someone who lived life with great zest. Mona was not only deeply curious and a perpetual student, she was feisty and funny. She had a long career as an educator, so when she came to me only a few months after first stepping onto her yoga mat and asked if she could undertake an upcoming teacher training, I realized she had the skills of teaching and simply needed to deepen her knowledge. She was so keen to share and so motivated to dig deeply, not only into her own practice but into the massive volumes of yoga knowledge.

Shortly after graduating from the training program, I hired her to teach to employees within the hospital program that I had been managing. And they loved her. What they loved was her ability to adapt the practice of yoga to any body. Mona understood this on a personal level as she would joke about having the most props in the room when she would practice, almost creating a fortress of props around her mat. She had stiff wrists, inflexible hamstrings, and tight hip flexors. But what she lacked in flexibility, she made up for in heart. It didn't phase her to use a block (or two) to create a sensation within a pose. She had nothing to prove, only an experience to be had. She taught to the most unlikely looking yoga practitioners and brought her love of it to them. Her enthusiasm was contagious and she ended up creating a course for employees into an on-going class. She was working her Mona magic.

Throughout this time, she also had been diagnosed with cancer, but that didn't dampen anything. If anything, it ignited a sense of deeper purpose. Throughout the ups and downs of treatment, she kept coming back to her mat, whether she had a full head of hair or not. She saw it as a way of being, as a refuge and dove deeply into her own practice when things got rocky. I was lucky to have taught her about Restorative yoga last December. She was ready to share this with others, to continue adding volume to what she knew, and to use it to support her own journey. Looking back, she was not only inquisitive throughout the intensive training but supportive of others participating.

Shortly after she passed away, I was at a yoga festival in the high desert near Joshua Tree. I had just completed a practice, was lying in savasana (the final relaxation pose), and being bathed in the sound of crystal bowls and gongs. During this deep state of relaxation, I had this incredible experience. I saw rising up above me, a massive field of light, a kaleidoscope of energy and immediately thought "Mona!". In the light that I knew was her, she sent me a silent message that all was well, as if saying to me, "Jayne, look how huge I am now that I'm no longer confined to my body! This is amazing!". The message was one of comfort and a deep sense that she was free of any limitations that may have been present in physical, human form. I left the class knowing I needed to share this message and so I did, at Mona's celebration of life.

My thought of the week is to not only remember those who've left their body and the magical moments they have gifted us with but to remember that we are not just our bodies but so much more, so much bigger, with infinite potential. I am humbled by my angel friend, Mona, now in light form, who was my teacher, reminding me to come back into my own light.

I remember and I am forever grateful.