May your sleep be your death, and your wakefulness be your heaven.
As a child, my father was a god to me__t times I loved him, at times I feared him, but I always wanted to be like him. As an adolescent, I resented my father for the sin of being human__or not being the god of my childhood. Then, as a young man, I felt sorry for my father because, in my arrogance, I believed he knew nothing and I knew everything. It was not until I held my own son for the first time that I truly understood my father. Now I can appreciate the man he is and the man he helped me to become.
The River of Wisdom: Reflections on Yoga, Meditation, and Mindful Living
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As a child, my father was a god to me__t times I loved him, at times I feared him, but I always wanted to be like him. As an adolescent, I resented my father for the sin of being human__or not being the god of my childhood. Then, as a young man, I felt sorry for my father because, in my arrogance, I believed he knew nothing and I knew everything. It was not until I held my own son for the first time that I truly understood my father. Now I can appreciate the man he is and the man he helped me to become.
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But the biggest clue seemed to be their expressions. They were hard to explain. Good-natured, friendly, easygoing...and uninvolved. They were like spectators. You had the feeling they had just wandered in there themselves and somebody had handed them a wrench. There was no identification with the job. No saying, "I am a mechanic." At 5 P.M. or whenever their eight hours were in, you knew they would cut it off and not have another thought about their work. They were already trying not to have any thoughts about their work on the job.
Yoga does not start or end on your mat, but is present in every breath you take.