Corpse pose is the death of my yoga class. Every class closes the exact same way. My body floats above the mat in total stillness. Fully aware, yet detached.

It’s the pause between the asanas and next phase of my day. Whatever peace and clarity I may have collected over the last 90 minutes, they say will all be integrated into the body during savasana (dead body pose).

During a time of incredible loss, I hold on to corpse pose. The death of the old. The lessons instilled on the mat.

The idea that whatever breaths I may have taken (in the studio or during this brief lifetime), whether they were filled with effort, strength, beauty, knowledge and experience… expectations, opinions, fear, judgments, fight… striving, strain or struggle. At the very end, each breath is replaced with ease, trust, surrender… deeper faith, love and a greater sense of connection and spirituality.

Life feels like savasana, right now. Deep healing is happening in the stillness. The brutality of ill breaths have been replaced with whispers of angels.

Three patriarchs have been freed from pain and suffering. I am grieving, yet I am grateful.

I cling to the beautiful moments and many, many lessons you’ve taught me over the years.

  • Integrity is where it is at. It’s how you live your life, and it’s how you end it.
  • Be kind. Help others (and receive graciously when in need).
  • Work hard. Don’t stop. Never give up.
  • Be smart, but be wise. Intelligence is not wisdom.
  • Practice gratitude. There’s always something to be grateful for. And you may not have it tomorrow.
  • Laugh.
  • Choose your friends wisely. You are the sum of the people closest to you.
  • Be honest and take responsibility for your mistakes.
  • Check in every night. Are you proud of what you did? Are you doing your best?
  • Be yourself. Don’t compare yourself to others.
  • Be courageous.
  • Do what makes you feel alive.
  • Dream and love.
  • Inspire others.
  • Invest in your friends.
  • Family is the glue. Love unconditionally.

In tender moments it’s easy to remember these lessons, to live with gratitude and put the priorities back into perspective.

Thank you, Rich. Thank you, Tom. Thank you, Lee.

I love you. I miss you.

But I know this is just a long savasana of transition. You are floating above the mat of life. Your sweet (and mischievous) smiles radiate through your children – my friends who are my family.