are you looking for me?
los angeles last weekend.
not mine – but the marathon of others, friends, strangers – it doesn’t matter. i wasn’t running – i wasn’t even officially volunteering – but i wanted to be there.
sometimes i’m not clear why i want things…i’m often looking out the windshield of my life with the wipers on HARD – seeing shapes…but waiting for clarity. i believe in God. the clarity always comes.
here’s the story.
marathon sunday was a tough one for those runners. it rained really hard. i was 3 hours early for the finish. in the rain. i’m from vancouver – it wasn’t really a problem – but i didn’t really have a plan either.
i was wandering through santa monica. a little emotional. i turned a corner…and found, before me, a woman opening a yoga studio. and there we stood in the rain, laughing about the monsoon, and before i knew it, i was coming in to do yoga. her name was honeybee.
she laid her mat beside mine.
and we started to practice.
the rain fell so hard we laughed out loud. we talked about children and God and outer space and yoga and we laughed some more.
and the yoga was good.
it was easy like a sunday morning but tough enough that i summoned a singular focus.
and then i was in child’s pose and she started to read…..this:
Are you looking for me?
I am in the next seat; My shoulder is against yours.
You will not find me in the stupas,
not in Indian shrine rooms,
nor in cathedrals:
not in masses, nor kirtans,
not in legs winding around your own neck,
nor in eating nothing but vegetables,
When you really look for me, you will see me instantly –
you will find me in the tiniest house of time.
Kabir says: Student, tell me, what is God?
He is the breath inside the breath.
snatam kaur was singing in the background. honeybee started to sing too. i was crying in the way you cry when you look at your own baby. the tears just fall out of your face sprung from the understanding that YOU ARE LOVE.
listen: you’re either into this or you’re not. you either get it or you don’t. you either cry at rainbows or you don’t. you either marvel at the magic of children or you don’t.
the tears fell out of my face and honeybee said: whatever’s in there girl – let’s get it out. breath of fire. tiger breath. and like the freakin warrior high priestesses we are – we kept going.
and when i came to savasana, we said loving prayers for our friends running the marathon. and then honeybee pulled out her guitar (listen: you can’t make this shit up) and she sang.
she read the poem again. Kabir. a poet and weaver. 15th century.
i made a donation to the studio. honeybee and i hugged.
and then i gathered my things. zipped up my raincoat. packed up my friends’ vuvuzela.
i ran to the finish line.
there i stood. for an hour. blowing the vuvuzela, jumping up and down like a little kid.
i love the marathon.
for everything that it has done for me and for everything that it does for others.
what did i go to LA for?
i went to watch the tearful faces of the japanese runners in the 25th mile – men and women who couldn’t run in their own country 2 weeks ago and came to LA to finish what they started.
i went to see the epic smiles of my friends as i blew their vuvuzela.
i went to be ready for my cherished friend in case she needed me – and she did – in one look i knew she was giving it every single thing she had.
i went to stand in the rain and be of service – to cheer on the runners.
i went to lie on a yoga mat and listen to a girl named honeybee sing to me.
i went to listen.
and when i listened, i heard God say to me: are you looking for me?
can you think of a better way to spend the $280 my flight cost me?
once again – the marathon transformed me.