Last night I spoke to about 40 people who have been affected by a brain injury. There were family members, as well as the individual who is discovering a new life with new skills. We created a large circle of inclusion and I shared the practice with them. The ages ranged from a 10-year-old son there with his wounded warrior dad to the retired farmer in overalls. Dynamic people. The hospital media specialist was busy snapping of photos of me in the center of this circle while I encouraged the postures and breath. As the class concludes, I shook each of their hands and thanked them. It was just an honor to share space and offer them something that they may have thought was impossible for them.
As I was packing up my things, I see a text message from my youngest son, Evan: So proud of who you are as a person mom. You are such a beautiful woman inside and out for doing what you do. Most people would feel sickened by the idea of having to teach yoga to mentally and physically impaired people. You on the other hand sign up to do it willingly with minimal pay. Makes me so proud to be your son. Crazy how you spoke tonight in front of so many people about it. That’s insane how far you’ve come. Small actions to you may mean the world to someone else. They changed the people in your classes lives and those around you including me. I love you mom.
This stopped me. He is 17 years old and he sees the truth in others.
When I got home I hugged him and thanked him. I watched as he seemed to look at me through a different lens. Although he has known of my work–even gone with me to some classes–tonight I sensed he saw me.