Today, as I was driving to the George R Brown Convention Center in Houston, TX, I was nervous. No lie. I had a super chill morning. We (Amber and I, my partner in crime on this endeavor) stayed with some dear friends. We all went to bed early Saturday night. Everyone awakened and started milling about around the same time today, Sunday. We decided to have a group breakfast. Amber and I fetched some groceries. Everyone joined in the cooking process. We all sat around afterwards chatting and sharing really fun stories about surf documentaries and books and kids and weddings and the stuff of life. And then, all of the sudden, we were in a hurry! We had 20 minutes to leave. How had I lost track of time like that? Rush, pack, hurry out the door.
But the thing is, I’m pretty sure it was a blessing. My class was planned. I had it timed out carefully. I knew what I wanted to speak to physically; I knew what I wanted to share spiritually. I was ready. Had I been sitting around, I likely would have been a ball of nerves.
As we were rushing to throw our things in the car I said, “Well, shit. Now, I’m nervous.”
So we loaded up and jetted towards the Convention Center, map on the iPhone, directions memorized from my local expert friends. While driving, I was still nervous. Once the Convention Center was in sight, my phone vibrated indicating a text had just come through. It was from my friend, Peppi. She is a family friend. Her parents and my parents were best friends as we grew up. Her mom is deceased; my mom is deceased. The one time my mom visited me in a dream last summer, she was a being of light, intertwined with Peppi’s mom, Rise, who was also a being of light. They were chanting: Choose Joy, Choose Joy, Choose Joy. Ever since then, this has become my mantra.
Peppi, randomly, sent me a picture of my parents.
Happy Sunday. Just found this. Big hugs!!
This picture is so sweet — my mom staring adoringly at my dad. It was taken after my my mom’s brain surgery, which she had barely survived, probably about 5 years after. They were so in love. It seemed that surgery, as gruesome as it had been, gave them a new lease on life, a renewed marital connection. I instantly teared up when I received it. I’m pretty sure Peppi had no idea I was headed to teach in my first ever yoga conference, nervous as hell, missing my mom and wishing I could share this with her. I always shared anything of this magnitude with her. I suspected it was my mom’s spirit that gave her the nudge to send the picture.
So we parked, went inside and made our way to the welcome booth. They explained where my room was and the other pertinent details. Amber and I were planning to take a 2 and 1/2 hour class with Les Leventhal before my session, and we were excited about it. We had about 10 minutes before everything got underway, so I suggested that we stash our gear and take a look about. I really wanted to see Catherine Allen and hug her neck. We didn’t find Catherine, but the first person I did see whom I recognized was this creature:
You may or may not recollect Aline Houston from my previous posts. She was an extremely influential connection for me last year in the training I did in Houston with Ana Forrest. Aline and I connected on a deep level. I had just lost my mom to a terminal illness; she is sustaining a child with a severe mental and physical handicap. I felt compelled to hug and love on her daily (still do) and she felt compelled to bring me a rose quartz out of the blue one day. Unbeknownst to her, my mom was holding a rose quartz when she passed. When I saw Aline, I hugged her tightly. I pulled that rose quartz out of my purse as I have recently started carrying it with me in the last few weeks for no particular reason. We both cried. Twice in less than thirty minutes, I felt my mom all around me.
I went on to take Les’s amazing class. I went on to teach my workshop from my heart to those who attended. We had so much fun. It was completely an Avenue of Joy for me. I knew without a doubt that even though she wasn’t there in the flesh and even though she couldn’t call me and tell me on the phone, that my mom was proud and that she was with me. For that, I am grateful still. In love with life. Alive. Excited. Exhilarated. And amazed. Simply amazed.