There was an older gentlemen in my last class today, I’ll call him Charlie for confidentiality purposes. Even though it was a gentle class there were still a few postures he had a harder time getting in and out of. He didn’t seem to care, and I didn’t feel bad for him, but I was cognizant of his heart and energy and kept an extra eye on him, kept my feelers peeled for any flags of anger, frustration or irritation. He had none of it — zero — and showed up into one of the most beautiful tree poses I’ve seen.

I told him after class how gracious I thought he was. He began to talk and casually mentioned he was 75. 75! After a long day full of a few Why Is Life So Hard waves, I was touched by the fact this human in front of me had been doing this thing we call Life for seventy.five.years.

He said things aren’t working as good as they use to (in his body), but that they’ll just get worse if he doesn’t do anything about it. Said it’s easy to want to just say hey, whatever, especially at that age, “but you can’t”, he said, “you gotta keep moving.” I couldn’t tell if I wanted to cry or hug him. Both? (we did neither) ((yet))

It sounds like I’m never around old people. And after writing that line I guess I’m actually not, but I know old people exist and I cheer them on silently when I see them out and about in the world. I have sincere and deep respect for humans who have lived on this planet for so long. What strength, what endurance they have. I couldn’t help but marvel at this man for not only existing (75 years!) but for still taking a stand for his life, still being proactive about doing what needs to be done, still living by “but you can’t (stop moving / give up / say Fuck It)”, when you actually really, really can. And though saying No to Life isn’t nearly as beautiful and expansive and as enriching as saying Yes, it’s still a path many take and he’s choosing otherwise (and how appropriate today’s intention during class was to embrace life as if it’s happening for you, rather than to you…)

I’ve always had a bit of a hard time being alive. It sounds a bit odd to say but I’m not sure there’s any other way to say it really. There are moments / times I don’t want to be here, be doing this, be human, and I get frustrated and/or angry and/or resistant to the fact that I have to. I’m not sure if that’s just growing pains, or some existential inner conflict I’m meant to work through. Seeing Charlie, at age seventy freaking five, rise to the occasion of Life and show up for himself was touching and humbling and a gentle reminder that yes, the work never ends, and yes, there is also a way to survive this all in one, beautiful, tree pose striking piece (peace) (peace).

To 75 year old yogi’s, and being blessed enough to guide them.