A Weeping Yogi
During our March Break ski trip to Whistler, BC, while my family frolicked in thigh-deep Pacific Powder and I did—not, I visited The Oracle (More than just a store . . . an experience!). While there, I made a purchase which I tucked away in my suitcase to take home to put in my office.
On the day we returned home, within hours—before we even had a chance to unpack—we learned that our close friend, Lynn, had died that morning.
Laden with grief, I unpacked my suitcase and came upon my purchase: a Weeping Yogi.
His card reads:
“The yogi weeps because the world is profoundly sad, they say, and someone has to always be weeping for its sorrows, so that you can be joyful. Hand-carved in Bali, these yogis take your pain so that you can enjoy life. Known for their gentle, joyful spirit, the Balinese believe that sharing your sorrows lessens the load and sharing your joys helps you grow: so share your sadness with the yogi and share your joys with those you love. Holding his head in his hands, the yogi seems to be saying, ‘If it’s too much for you, please share it with me. It’s why I’m here. It’s what I do.’ Some feel that the yogi has either just moved into his pose of sadness and sorrow, or is about to stand up in happiness and joy.”
That day, I held the little wood carving in my hands, and damned if I didn’t feel a little better.
I’m not sure what compelled me to pick up the yogi, but in the past three years I’ve lost two of my best friends (ages 46 and 47, for Pete’s sake), my brother, my mother-in-law, and my dog. To add insult to injury, we even lost the Dairy Queen in our neighbourhood, so I can’t even inappropriately self-medicate with hot fudge sundaes anymore.
My cynical friends will say that it’s just a piece of wood. They’ll say its effects are the result of a psychological mind game.
Yep. It’s a piece of wood. Yep, it’s effects are a psychological mind game. (But then, isn’t everything?) All I know is that, this past week, I picked up that piece of wood and held it for a while, and then I wrapped my dog’s collar around it.
Damned if I didn’t feel a little better.
Posted on September 18, 2012, in Art, Belief, Gratitude, Inspiration, Living life to the fullest, progressive christianity, science, story and tagged grief, The Oracle at Whistle, weeping yogi. Bookmark the permalink. 14 Comments.