The end of a book is a bit like the end of a life. This unique creation had its time, took its journey, and now passes its wisdom on to the next generation. Like any life, one hopes that it holds something of lasting value to those who come after.
Last year I had the sad privilege of caring for my mother at the end of her human life. In the two weeks before her passing, I was challenged to practice every ounce of what is in this book, moment by moment, day by day.
Age and disease prevented my mother from performing even routine self-care at the end. So while changing the diaper of one who had swaddled me as a baby, I practiced reverence (Ahimsa) for her body. In the struggle to balance meeting her needs and maintaining my work and family life, I shared conflicting feelings of resentment, despair, and gratitude in truthfulness (Satya) with my husband. As I gave all that I could and humbly asked for help when I could give no more, I understood the blend of honesty and generosity (Astheya).
To save energy for caregiving, I gave up what was not essential, practicing moderation (Brahmacharya). And as I realized the magnitude of love I had been blessed with from my human mom, as well as my Divine Mother, appreciation (Aparigraha) came naturally.
When long, hot days of suffering wore into cool, silent nights of sitting in the rain together, I understood the true value of purity and simplicity (Saucha). When she could no longer move anything but her hand, yet reached out to touch mine in loving presence, I knew the meaning of contentment (Santosha).
Holding strong for her wishes even when she could not remember what she had asked of me, I felt the clarifying nature of right action (Tapas). I reached for inspiration from the sacred Sutras as I shed innumerable tears and discovered new levels of Self-reflection (Swadhaya) as emotion flooded my being. And when I surrendered the whole painful situation in loving devotion (Iswara Pranidhana) to the One that binds us in Love, I felt the assurance of what lies beyond the physical realm.
To stay strong and balanced so I could function for my family and clients, I practiced right posture (Asana). Energy control (Pranayama) was vital to manage my sorrow as I sat by her bedside watching her transition. And by employing sensory withdrawal (Pratyahara) and inner focus (Dharana), I was able to reduce the vision of suffering that surrounded me on the outside and feel her sweet essence with me on the inside. In meditation (Dhyana), I was blessed to feel the connection of our souls that transcends this human life.
Although I will not say I reached Samadhi, we shared a spectacular moment in which I witnessed what it means to have the window of consciousness opened, at least temporarily.
Mom was not a yogi and had no education in these teachings. Near the end, she struggled with her religious beliefs, feeling unable to answer the profound questions that inevitably arise near death. Even though we had spoken of spiritual topics my whole life, she became lost and confused in her beliefs.
Her time of passing was drawing near and for several days she had been mostly sleeping, barely moving or even opening her eyes. Then one day, she called to me faintly. I went to her side and held her hand. Her eyes remained closed but she was smiling. She said, “I can see now. And it is so beautiful.”
That was the last thing she said to me and I will never forget the peace I felt in her and in the room as she whispered those words. She had seen beyond the veil of ignorance and illusion to what is real and eternal.
There is a profound purity near death that strips away the personality that we work so hard to protect in life. The “I” really does go away and merge into what makes all of this exist. And in that mergence there is peace, and love, and bliss, just as the Eight Limbs of Yoga teach. The good news is we do not have to wait until death to experience these. They are right here, right now, available and within our reach, if we but choose them.
With every ended life, there comes a legacy. If we are lucky, that legacy is love. For Mom, it certainly is. And for this book as well, I hope. There is nothing greater than love. It is the Essence of who we all are. May joy guide your way as you practice True Yoga and may you realize your Self as Love.
—Aum, shanti, shanti, shanti, Aum.
Jennie Lee