When the doctor walked out of the room and announced the passing of Naa’ila the scream of my voice certainly reached the outskirts of town. In the middle of that night of end of October 2014 I screamed to the sky the sudden passing of my beloved young beautiful daughter. That same very moment of bottomless excruciating pain contained its corollary: a pure state of bliss, of clear-cut connection with some heavenly force that drew me out of the reality. I had no more feet, could not feel the ground nor the physical boundaries of my body. I had a special force making me walk, talk, and act. The next few days went fast, full of people, crowds of peers, and friends coming and going, helping or crying. In the midst of the momentum I kept repeating the same sentence: life goes on, if I stop holding classes, energy stops and if energy stops, life stops. Life must go on and I will continue to hold classes.
That day, twenty persons sat down in lotus and waited for the class to start. I held the class with the intention of sharing the breath of life, the thread that keeps us all alive, the thread of prana. Since that day many events unfolded at fast pace and time is coming close to start sharing the heightened states of consciousness I am experiencing.
How yoga helps me sustain grief since day one is still an unfolding story; yet I can share a few interesting aspects:
– Deep connection to prana: I can switch instantly to another lens of experience and live yoga to the roots of any of its petal (ethics, focus, posture, concentration, meditation, bliss);
– discipline: the more I practice, the less I carry grief as a heavy weight, I can cry during a practice and it can burst at any moment, but crying is not grief rather release;
– I find harmony, balance and strength as well as routine in the practice: the discipline of the routine gives me focus to take care of myself;
– Ego is gone: I do practice because I need to do something. The practice is all I have to share, the purpose.
In this current incarnation, my life has taken various paths. Like branches of a banyan tree most of them have given birth to healthy beautiful green leaves, and as in the natural cycle of nature, change has also taken place. Green leaves becoming brown and falling off giving space to other growing buds. Approximately four to five changes have unfolded. From the dancer to the corporate international manager and humanitarian worker to Holistic Healer, Life Coach and Yoga instructor, I have given life to a beautiful mixed-race daughter who grew up as a third culture child, set up one Healing studio and developed a broader vision establishing a fully fledged Yoga and Well being Studio outreach to unusual geographical areas for a healing business: Burkina Faso.
My daughter was a beautiful being, strong and healthy, smart and joyful, patient and graceful. Experiencing her sudden passing in my own hands in just about twelve hours from high fever, reshuffled all my life cards with no exceptions. It also triggered the immediate and expanded use of all the healing tools ever acquired and learned in the past two decades. Moreover, it kicked my life into a deeper self-discovery path. The sale of all belongings, the handing over of the studio, my daughter into ashes here I was with two small luggage and a journey to unfold deeper.
I am writing this post from the foothills of the Himalayas where I have attended a Yogi initiation course. By the time I will leave this place, thirteen weeks will have passed during which I eventually will have surely known new tools yet I will have learned to grieve in silence of my aloneness and cleared some foundations to set a new path in my journey: The Solo Mama Yogi Journey. I miss my companion like the sea would miss water yet I know she hears me, she sees me, and she even visits us here. So I am at peace. I am learning to live in a reality where Naaila is ever-present in her absence.