The Sunny Side of Life

Even in the darkest hours, if we attune ourselves with Supreme Consciousness, joy naturally arises within us.

By John Friend

"It is all so wonderful," my mother whispered to me weakly in her sweet Alabama accent. Those were her last words before she slipped into her final sleep. The morning light sparkled through the cracks in the vertical blinds as I sat next to the hospital bed holding her cold hand. For the previous hour I had watched her breath get slower and her exhalations longer. My whispered encouragement of "Go to God, Mom" culminated with her last soft breath, a fitting end to a life in which every day was lived as a celebration of Spirit.

Nine months earlier, in the middle of a cold December, my mother and I had sat alone together in a room in that same hospital. Even though she had to breathe oxygen through a tube in her nose, she was wearing a playful reindeer-antler hat. The oncologist had just left the room after delivering a dire message: The cancerous tumor that was blocking the opening of her right lung was of the small-cell variety—the worst, fastestgrowing kind. The doctor painted a bleak picture. My mother's condition was so grim that she might never go home.

When the doctor left, my 78-year-old mother sat up, still wearing her ridiculous hat. At first her eyes conveyed a wild whirlpool of emotions. Then, mustering all her faith in the ever-present, invincible power of Spirit, she stated to me with conviction, "Well, we certainly are not going to start writing some dismal obituary. We are going to continue to celebrate life every moment of each day." To punctuate that statement, she smiled and exchanged her antler hat for an equally goofy-looking one made of Christmas lights. An answering smile came to my face even as tears of grief filled my eyes. There was no way to keep my mom's irrepressible spirit from pulling up the sides of my mouth.

Every Day Is a Holiday

Long before I discovered yoga, I had absorbed some of its most basic lessons from my mother. One of the most important was her celebratory attitude toward life, perfectly encapsulated by a favorite motto she took from the title of a 1937 Mae West movie: Every Day Is a Holiday. As a realistic balance to this sweeping optimism, she would always acknowledge that great suffering happens every day. Although her attitudes hadn't come from exposure to yoga, my mother's approach to life was aligned with that of the Tantric yogis, who see the world as essentially a joyful, playful manifestation of Spirit (in Tantric terminology, Shiva, or Supreme Consciousness).

As a name for the Divine, Shiva always encompasses the attributes of auspiciousness and goodness, reflecting the Tantric idea that God or Supreme Consciousness is fundamentally a positive, affirming presence. Furthermore, Shiva's fundamental nature is chidananda—supreme bliss that is self-aware. Because of this, when we attune ourselves with the Supreme, joy naturally arises within us. That bliss is the fundamental ground of existence. We all experience pain and suffering, but these are not the quintessential nature of life. The Earth turns away from the sun and night occurs, but that doesn't mean that the sun isn't always shining. It might be hard to see sometimes, but goodness and divine beauty can always be found. In the Tantric view, there is always holiness to celebrate within each and every day.

On my yoga mat I have attempted to embody my mother's celebratory philosophy by making every pose and every breath shine with shri—the radiant quality of divine beauty. Shri is Shiva's luminous essence that shines forth in grand harmony, exalted goodness, and exquisite splendor. In Tantra, anything that is life-affirming or life-enhancing is an expression of shri. To experience the iridescent magnificence of a rainbow that occurs after a rainstorm, the intoxicating scent of night-blooming jasmine, the juiciness of a ripe mango, the giggle of a child, or the tenderness of a lover's kiss is to witness shri in all its glory. When you see a well-aligned asana performed with virtuous feeling and your heart is uplifted, you are beholding the sparkling beauty of shri. In each of these instances, you are naturally drawn into your heart—the core of your being—and your life is enriched.

Over the past 30 years, every time my mother walked into a room to watch me do my asana practice, I was immediately inspired to celebrate my highest potential of beauty and skill with every breath. The memory of her presence still moves me to offer the most exalted expression of shri that I can muster in every pose. For each of us, asana practice can be an opportunity to reveal our divine greatness and to manifest our unique beauty in a wide variety of poses, just as Shiva's essence glorifies itself by continually emerging as an unbounded array of shapes, colors, life-forms, and relationships.

The Triumph of Spirit

Although my mother never denied the seriousness of her illness, she also never lost her positive outlook, which was grounded in a steady faith that Spirit is always ultimately triumphant. Her survival for months with such advanced cancer was a testimony to the magic that sometimes happens when you embrace whatever life sends you. Due to her upbeat spirit and the effectiveness of radiation treatments, her tumor shrank enough to allow her to go home two days after Christmas. A week later I took her back to the oncologist for a consultation. Up to this point the doctors had given my mother little hope for surviving beyond a few weeks. So we were surprised when he told us that there was a specific chemotherapy for small-cell lung carcinoma that could might give my mother several more years of life. However, according to the doctor, this treatment was effective only for about 10 percent of patients from 25 to 65 years old, and so hardly even considered for 78-year-olds. I rolled my eyes and looked at my mother with a facial expression that conveyed my belief she would have better odds playing the lottery. My mother ignored my pessimistic look. Instead, she lit up with a big smile and exclaimed, "Ten percent? How wonderful! Let's go for it! When do we start?" That next morning my mother arrived at the chemotherapy clinic with enough food for a full-on party. For the next couple of months, she turned the clinic into a lively social club where everyone, including the nurses, wanted to linger, even after hours.

All of us can begin to make every day a holiday by looking for the good in each thing. For example, when I am performing asanas, I begin by honoring what I think is good about my practice. Then, instead of trying to fix what I think might be wrong with a pose, I try to enhance and improve whatever I find to be good. There was a time in the past when I focused on finding the imperfections in my poses, then trying to fix the outer alignment to make my poses perfect. Practicing with that mind-set, I often ended up disappointed, frustrated, or bitter. Also, I was quick to point out all the misalignments, or "mistakes," and other things "wrong" in my students' poses. Although I provided instructions so they could improve, I believed perfection was impossible, and so I could always find something problematic in their poses. Now that I am focusing on looking for the good—the shri—in myself and others, I leave the yoga studio feeling renewed and transformed. And my students are not only happier but also leave class shining.

My mother never stopped looking for the good, even on her deathbed. On the day before she passed away, all the people who came to her bedside to say good-bye were greeted with individually crafted compliments that honored the shri in them. "Oh, what a beautiful blouse you are wearing! You are so lovely and always so finely dressed." Or, "Your smile is so bright, and that certainly reflects your kind heart." Or, "You are so thoughtful and caring. You are a blessing to so many." As a recipient of my mother's praise, each person left her hospital room feeling uplifted about themselves and life. Although many were crying with grief, each was also shimmering from the inside out with an exquisite luster. By recognizing and acknowledging the divine good in each person, my mother had helped to magnify shri all around her.

At the end of her last night, when all the visitors had gone home, my mother turned toward me with smiling eyes full of tears and said very slowly, "Everyone has been just so wonderful." Even when her pain was so great and the darkness of death so near, she had continued to praise life-affirming Spirit—just as she had always done, and taught me to do, every day of her life.

John Friend teaches Anusara Yoga workshops all over the country. He mixes universal principles of alignment with the practice of looking for the good in people, the beauty in things, and the fullness in every moment.

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