I accepted a ride home from my therapeutics yoga master teacher tonight. It was an unexpected invitation, and one that I initially declined — as I didn’t want to inconvenience him. (My condo is so out of his way!) But, I’m glad that I accepted.
It was 10 minutes of one-on-one time, with conversation spanning the pedestrian (“What do you do for work?”) and profound (“You are your own Satguru.”) It gave me a glimpse into Gabriel as a regular Joe versus a master yogi commanding the yoga studio … although, the yogi certainly shines through even as he munches on crackers and humus while manning the wheel. It was wonderful to hear about Gabriel’s devotion to his daughters, the youngest of whom is graduating high school this spring, and he’s clearly sentimental about this.
One little moment from that car ride stands out: When we were at a red light he reclined the driver’s seat and dug into his pocket. I had no clue what he was doing — until he pulled the seat back up, rolled down the window and handed a homeless man the change that was in his pocket. The man mumbled something and walked on. Gabriel turned to me and said, “Do you notice how homeless people always say, ‘God bless you?'”
I stalled at this. No witty comeback or anything — even though a part of me really wanted to say something, anything, that might recognize or applaud what I just witnessed. Instead, I simply absorbed the teaching moment. And when the light turned green, we continued forward.