I wrote this new piece for Yoga International. It's dear to my heart.
"On a pristine Sunday evening in late spring, we memorialized the life of my old friend Greg.
It was a perfectly Aloha party, an anti-funeral on the rooftop deck of a restaurant under the Bay Bridge, complete with Hawaiian shirts and rollicking toasts and great seafood. The weather even behaved on behalf of the celebration: no fog in sight.
At the request of Greg’s friends and family, I’d agreed to officiate the memorial.
This left me anxious as hell.
The morning of the service, I woke up with an unnameable knot in my belly. The pressure to sum up a beloved friend’s life in a few brief words completely trumps the pressure of doing, well, pretty much anything else...."
Grateful for yoga's ongoing reminder to relax into authenticity, and to savor the shadows along with the sun.
You can read the whole thing here.