This one’s not about yoga. Unless it’s the yoga of dying, passing on, leaving this physical world. For Julie Hafer, a woman in my writing class, has died. Suddenly, on Sunday. She was 47 years old, witty, a good writer, funny, and loved by the class. I didn’t know her well but I liked what I knew. Julie, it doesn’t seem fair! You were giving most of your time toward taking care of your elderly parents. You didn’t get to live a full life of your own, it seemed. I am shocked, numbed, and angry at the Universe for taking you away so soon.
And who am I, after all? I am sure I am looking in a mirror. I have always felt I was in a race with Time. How much time do I have left? Will I get everything accomplished in this lifetime? I even had a vision one day, walking into the front door from my car, that some other-worldly creature would be sitting on my couch. I’d look at him knowingly and say, “It’s time, isn’t it.” My time is up. Nada. Over. That’s it.
So I take it personally that someone younger than I is gone. How did she spend her last day? What caused her death, anyway? Does it really matter? She’s gone and that’s a fact. I didn’t get to vote on it. I am not God even though I may be divine. I have to get over it. I have my own life to live and Julie’s leaving is a stark reminder that we must live in the present moment–just as Eckhart Tolle says, just as I always knew but don’t always follow. God, now you got my attention!
Time to meditate.