Valentine's Day.
A day of love letters, red roses and boxed candy.
But for me, today is a really powerful day, a heart opening day.
After months of deliberating, I finally decide to treat myself to a private yoga lesson from my beloved teacher. I inherently know doing so will change not only my practice but also my life.
I finally feel ready.
So last week, I book a session for Valentine's Day as a present to myself. Over the last few days, I try to imagine what it will be like. What poses are we going to practice? What changes would he instruct me to make? Will my body sweat and burn? Will the sensations be similar to what I experience in class?
So much questions, expectations, curiosities....
To my (somewhat) surprise, the session had little to do with physical yoga. We spent a brief twenty minutes covering basic poses. He clarifies my shoulder positioning, forearm lifting, chest expansion, deep thoracic breathing. The focus is mainly on heart openers as he senses this is what I need most. I feel my pectoral muscles finally release from the tight grip they maintain on my sternum. With my clavicle bones open, my rigid shoulders loosen.
A slue of emotions arise. First anxiety, heart pounding fear. Then comes relief, a breath of fresh space. Then quivering anger and heavy sadness. By the end, I am light. Freedom is created in my body; energy flows. To say I feel bliss is quite an understatement. A obvious shift has been made.
On a deeper level, we speak much about my relationship to my father. How he knows this is the exact issue I have been struggling with is beyond me. A mark of an exceptional teacher, I believe. He doesn't know I went home Friday evening to have a honest, heart to heart talk with my father about his health. I cried, begged and pleaded for my dad to start taking care of himself, to make the massive life change needed to save his life. It has tormented the very deepest layers of my heart as I carry around this pain for weeks. (If I am honest, it has been the past several years.)
And so my teacher reminds me to live by example, to stop trying so hard to force change. My dad must come to that on his own terms, in his own way. I can lead and offer guidance, even show the path but ultimately he must walk it. How hard it is to let go and respect another person's journey, especially when it is my parent. He suggests instead of telling my dad what to do, which often results in stubborn resistance, I start asking how he feels. I am to teach him how to be more emotionally articulate, available and intelligent. Simply at first, I can inquire about the most basic level about his emotions. "How do you feel," is enough to suffice.
Ironically, during our session, my dad's annual Valentine bouquet of roses arrives at my apartment. Reading his standard card, Love Dad, I couldn't help but use it as a prime example of my father's lack of emotion. It seems easy to buy presents and show love through material things as is much my father's way. I know it is much harder to open your heart and express feelings.
I certainly prefer the latter.
So with new found courage and compassion, I decide to focus on opening my own heart. In order to do so, I must find forgiveness. I understand my dad has done the very best he can and for that, I am forever grateful. Because of his hard work, I have been afforded an exceptional life. That is undeniable. He is an extraordinary man with an abundance of great qualities. Unfortunately, he just lives with a closed heart. And I have been trying to dig myself in only to be met with blockages. (My dad has clogged arteries. Coincidence?)
Life has given me this opportunity for us to learn and grow together. Real changes come from within, not because one is pressured into doing so. I know this but now the challenging part is putting it into practice. My responsibility shifts; I must be more mindful of my own heart, to work on keeping it open, encompassing, wide, accepting, forgiving. To be vigilant not to let anger reside but rather fill it with love and compassion. This is the only means by which I can successfully reach my father.
From my heart to his, always.
