Occasionally during a lifetime you might be lucky to encounter a special person that lights your world up when they enter a room, or when you meet them on the street exchanging a friendly hello. They have that special quality to make you feel important, like they really care about you, what you are saying, and how you are doing.
We always seemed to run into each other, the annual Intermountain Nursery craft fairs, meetings and events of the Squirrel Cage Theatre group and other civic events in our small town community. Then there was the occasional email informing her that a package had been left off at my hardware store because the UPS driver would not deliver down the dirt road where they lived. I often chuckled at her occasional dyslexic and brief responses, e.g. “thanx cyntiha”.
Cynthia was the star of our yoga class. She was such an inspiration for us. We looked to her all the time to see how to do the proper form of the positions we were attempting to do. It felt weird not having her physically in class with us this week. Our yoga instructor brought in a small table and set up an altar covered with a purple yoga blanket. She had candles and two huge white quartz crystals and a big hunk of amethyst displayed there as well. She had the candles lit throughout our session. We laid out Cynthia’s yoga mat, blanket and blocks for her spirit to join us in class as usual.
We were instructed to think of Cynthia’s love light and bring her energy into our heart space. She asked us to do that for ourselves as well as to help Cynthia on her journey into the light.
The instructor was quite matter of fact about Cynthia’s passing, I personally was thinking about Cynthia during the quiet rest times. Memories of how proud she was having just purchased a new shiny Toyota RAV. And, then there was the kidding I gave her about not taking care of her new “baby” when mud and dust covered the car from her trip down the mountain from home.
I looked across the room at people wiping tears away as we were singing the yoga invocation chants. We could hear Cynthia’s voice singing with us.
It was a good class, but Cynthia was very much missed. A fitting soft remembrance to her though. She was our yoga hero. We affectionately called her “Gumby” because she was so flexible. Now we don’t know who to look to so that we can get the yoga poses right. A small thing, but she touched our lives in that way recently and in other ways over the years.
As far as the physical body dying, (transitioning, leaving the planet) goes, I guess for her it was a good way to do it. Quick, probably painless and outdoors in her own yard. It’s just really hard for all of those she left behind, because there was no real warning and it’s really hard to accept it mentally when it happens so fast and unexpectedly. Our yoga instructor told us that just this past week Cynthia had been really up and happy about her life, expressing that she was “getting it all together”. Some things are still mysterious to us. Perhaps the Universe does that on purpose.
On earth, Cynthia was always such a free spirit, following her own music, a butterfly flying on the breeze. Now she flies wild, high and free. Can you hear her music on the wind?
See more about Cynthia at her memorial website.
© Copyright 2008 North Fork News