On June 21st, 2024 … I gave a 90-minute talk on Navigating Grief: A Holistic Approach to Health and Healing at SYTAR 2024, International Association of Yoga Therapists’ annual yoga conference, in Scottsdale, Arizona.
As I spoke to 3 rooms filled with psychotherapists, yoga therapists, physical therapists, and other wellness professionals on International Day of Yoga … people laughed, cried, nodded, shared stories, and held space for each other. I am beyond grateful for the opportunity to speak, connect, learn, and do book signings at one of the largest yoga conferences in the world. But my stay in Scottsdale also made me think about deeper things.
Because it was a seething 118 degrees, the hotel had arranged golf carts and bell men to do drop offs and pickups for the conference guests from the villas to the main event area. A 5-minute ride burnt my skin, and these young and old men kept doing the back and forth with a smile on their faces and “How are you today, ma’am?” on their lips. I made it a point to thank each one of them, do introductions, ask their names, and enquire when their shift would end, and if they had any tips to survive the Arizonian dry heat. They were so generous with sharing their wisdom.
My father always said that no matter how tired we are … be kind and compassionate, especially to those who serve us. He was the type who took the driver to lunch and bought the elevator man chocolates. I was raised to acknowledge people. It wasn’t just the golf cart bell man, but I always respond to a homeless person in NYC as well. More often than not … they say, “Have a blessed day.”
What stopped me in my tracks was when one gentleman driving the golf cart said that despite so many yoga professionals in the crowd … working on their enlightenment and through their path of spirituality … not even a handful had made a kind request. It was always, “I need the cart now. Can you be there in 5 minutes?” Or “What caused the delay?” No please, no thank you, no compassion, no understanding. Just I, me, myself. Enlightenment replaced with entitlement.
His observation made me pause and reflect: How often are we truly compassionate and how often do we curate it when it works for us? Donate when it suits us; sign up to volunteer when our schedule allows; buy someone chai or lunch when we feel like it. We do good things as human beings but when it fits our time, schedule, mood, or budget. I am not judging anyone … I too am guilty of being conveniently compassionate on most days.
I overextend myself for the people I know, but when was the last time I did something nice for a stranger? Nothing premeditated or over analyzed. Buying coffee or a mug of hot chocolate during the holiday season is a good deed but an overdone cliché. When was the last time you did something when you didn’t get, expect, evaluate anything in return? As in, you didn’t have the opportunity to assess the gains and losses from the interaction, but you acted in the moment that benefitted another person.
On my way back from Phoenix, due to unfavorable weather conditions in NYC, the flight got canceled. Here’s the thing: I was already at the gate when I saw the update. First the delay was insignificant. Slowly, it became a 5-hour delay. By 10pm PST, we were informed that the flight would now leave on Sunday, June 23rd at 6 pm.
After 4 days in Arizona, I was ready to return home. This flight delay was a new twist, and I was beyond exhausted to process what an extra day in Arizona during a heat wave meant. Yoga has taught me that the only thing under our control are our thoughts. Yelling at the airline staff or being upset over the phone with my husband or getting all panicky isn’t my philosophy of life. The ones who lacked compassion (towards themselves, their finances, the airline staff at the airport, and their bodies) … bought tickets on another airline and/or paid for a hotel room.
For those of us who practiced a little compassion and patience, the airline eventually put us up in a hotel and gave us meal vouchers. By the time I checked into Crowne Plaza, Scottsdale, checked into my room, and messaged my husband … it was past 1:30am. The last word on my mind was how compassion was the driving factor why I had a nice room, hot shower, warm meal, and a sense of safety in a new city in the middle of the night.
As I sat with my cup of chai the next morning … I asked myself where else in life I could be more intentionally, not conveniently, compassionate. A group of us New Yorkers—all those who had survived the flight delay—were chit chatting in the lobby of the hotel after our 11am checkout. An Indian guy walked up to me and asked if the airline handed me the correct meal vouchers. I felt confused. He explained that the ones he was given had my name. Altruistic compassion.
One woman mentioned that her husband had a surgery scheduled in Manhattan for Monday afternoon. She was in Arizona because her 58-year-old brother died suddenly, and this lady and her husband had to sell her brother’s belongings to pay for his funeral. The week prior, her younger sister had passed away in her sleep in California. They were literally funeral hopping. She had paid for the hotel stay in Phoenix and was concerned how money was flowing like water.
I always bring a copy of my book, The Loss That Binds Us: 108 tips on coping with grief and loss, wherever I travel. Not because I wrote it, or because I need to post pictures of it from my travels. Because my work around grief and community has taught me that this book can help others.
I walked up to this Italian woman from Long Island and asked if she liked to read. She said as a nurse in the oncology department, she keeps a very demanding schedule and barely gets the time. So, I asked if I gave her a book, would she consider reading it? She looked confused as I handed her a copy of The Loss That Binds Us: 108 tips on coping with grief and loss.
She picked up the book. “Should I take a picture of the cover, so I can order it?” Her eyes were moist.
“No, I want you to have it. Read it when you need some healing tips.”
She hugged me tight and wailed like a baby. “It’s been nonstop. I lost two of my siblings.”
I patted her back, “I know.”
Even at the airport when we were ready to board our flight, this stranger came and sat next to me. “I have been reading your book. It brings me peace. I am sorry for your losses.”
I didn’t ask her name or request a book review or take any pictures. I felt deeply content and my heart lit up. I guess that’s the power of compassion when there are no strings attached.
“Help others without any reason and give without the expectation of receiving anything in return.” ~ Roy T. Bennett
