Previously On Martinez Yoga…
This has been a difficult past two weeks for me. My grandmother passed in her sleep. She was ninety-one. My family lives in San Francisco, San Jose, and Sacramento. I’m the only one that lives outside of the Golden State. It can be hard to be so far away. I love living and working in NYC, but when I get a call from my older sister telling me grandma Nena died, I get big time home sick, and miss family and friends in CA like crazy. I flew home and buried my grandmother.
Burying my grandmother was almost like burying my father, who died twenty years ago this coming March. My father died of a heart attack while mowing the front the lawn. He was fifty-nine. Me and my older brother discovered him passed out on the lawn, and were at his side as he passed. It was such a shock. I went numb. I wasn’t in my body. I wasn’t connected to anyone or anything. I don’t remember that week. I don’t remember the funeral. Family members have passed since my father, but my grandmother’s funeral was the first one since my father’s that I was truly present. I felt it. I felt it in my skin, my flesh, my bones, and my marrow. I was present. It was hard. As I was burying my grandmother, I was burying my father. It seems to me that those who are left behind have it hard and struggle more than those who have moved on. I feel better now, but it’s sad. I don’t know. What I do know is that I have my yoga practice. The forms, the movements, the breathing, the focus, the observation, the awareness, the process all help me accept what is real in my life, and help me be intimate with what is true, and this intimacy makes my life OK, and a lot of times great.
Are you intimate with your yoga? How does your yoga practice help you?
Dedicated to Arturo Martínez and Herlinda Martínez.
Photo by Anna Rose