I was digging deep and needed some help so I called Magnolia. Actually, I texted Magnolia asking if she were available to speak about something urgent. She was, and I called.
Magnolia is one of my yoga instructors. She is well aware that Dog & Me made up the unofficial A Team in town, and I desperately needed her kind of ear. A younger, more spiritual ear if you will.
A few years back, in the midst of becoming a new yoga student was when I first met Magnolia. I gravitated towards her classes because she has serious pull. It didn’t take too long before I had an overwhelming desire to share some blood and guts with somebody, and she quickly became that somebody. I wanted to tell her that I had been recently rocked by a series of circumstances, but that Asana and my new dog Quinn seemed to be keeping me painfully afloat.
She agreed to meet.(Summer 2016) We drove north of town to a surf beach near Davenport. I parked, turned to my right, and began speaking. To her, I was coming right out of left field. Perfectly random, genuinely serious, and painfully truthful. Thirty minutes or so later, I was done talking. She had some thoughtful bits of insight, and then I drove her home.
Later that year, as fall was approaching, I needed some help on a big job off Vine Hill Road. I texted her and asked if she had the time to help me out and that I pay considerably better than yoga studios. She didn’t even hesitate. That four-day work stint was when Magnolia saw Quinn in action. Work Dog grudgingly gave up the passengers seat to the yoga instructor. I assured Her that it was temporary labor and that nobody does her job as well as she does.
Lately, too many nagging injuries were keeping me from getting to the mat, so it had been awhile since Magnolia and I had spoken or seen one another. She answered her cell phone and I cut right to the chase:
“…as Quinn and I were sitting in my van with the car running and the heat blasting, I was so overwhelmed with the fear and the pain and the overall cloud of darkness that shrouded the situation, that it even surprised me when a light appeared. As hard as I was reminding myself how dark and painful this moment was to me, I couldn’t help but answer to the light. This light I am referring to felt equally as overwhelming as the darkness. For a measurable moment, it shined so bright on the situation, that it too became painful. And within the light I saw the reflection of some of my deepest values.”
I knew what she was going to say, and of course she said it.
She said to follow the light.