One of the most heart-wrenching moments in literature
happens in The Divine Comedy, when
Dante must say goodbye to Virgil. (Summary of The Divine Comedy: Dante travels through hell, purgatory, and then
heaven; the journey is both literal and figurative, representing his physical movement
through these places and also his spiritual path toward salvation). The scene
is a conflicting one for Dante and for his readers—though we are excited to
finally see Beatrice (Dante’s love on earth but also the inspiration for his
journey), we get Beatrice only by losing Virgil (Dante’s guide through hell and
purgatory). Virgil was much more than a guide; he was Dante’s father figure,
mentor, and fellow poet. To lose Virgil is to lose a trusted companion. And to
gain Beatrice is to gain heaven and to align with the very light leading the
way to paradise. Why is it that when he finally reaches the thing toward which
he’s been striving, he can’t help but look back in sadness at what he has to
lose? Does gain always come with loss?
As a reader, I too was heartbroken to lose Virgil, and yet I
was enthralled to meet Beatrice. But my emotional response stemmed from more
than what was happening on the page. I saw my own journey as a graduate student
coming to a close. I saw myself about to say goodbye to my symbolic Virgil
(graduate school), and I saw myself preparing to face my symbolic Beatrice
(whatever awaits me in my future).
I was a graduate student for seven and a half years. Yes, it
was thrilling to finally reach my goal and graduate, but coming out the other side was also
very scary and even saddening. How do I say goodbye to something that has been
so meaningful in my life?
The same feeling struck me two days ago as I participated in
a ceremony to mark the completion of my 200-hour yoga teacher training (YTT)
with my trusted guides at MOSAIC—the yoga studio that I have mentioned on
countless other occasions in these writings. MOSAIC’s mission—“to awaken and
uplift”—has been foundational in my spiritual journey. MOSAIC is another Virgil
in my life. I have attended many of their trainings, workshops, retreats, and
classes because they are so much more than a standard yoga studio. To explain
it here would derail me from my point for this entry, but suffice it to say
that there is something profound and spiritual happening within the walls of
their studio and within the hearts of their practitioners.
As the training came to its close, I was heartbroken to end an
intensive study of yoga, to leave a city as vibrant and magnetic as
Charlottesville, to say goodbye to the friends I made, and to graduate from the
guidance of some of the most inspiring teachers I have ever had. It was
difficult to leave after feeling so uplifted and full, knowing that uncertainty
awaited me upon my arrival home.
But I know that the time has come to take what I’ve learned over
all these years and share it with others—it is time to get to work.
And in a few more days, I face another goodbye. Saturday, I
leave Southern California—the only home I have ever known—to move to Northern
California, where I will live for the indefinite future. I will be living in a
new place, far from family and the majority of my friends. I will begin
teaching at a university I have never before seen. I will travel freeways I’ve
never navigated. A lot of change and all at once. Though this goodbye is
another sad one, I know that there are exciting opportunities ahead. I trust in
the cycle of life, death, and rebirth.
All this change and all these endings are teaching me that
there really aren’t any goodbyes because everything and everyone will always be
with me. Just as Virgil will always be with Dante, so too will the experiences
in graduate school, the transformational time at MOSAIC, and the love of my
friends and family be with me. And just as Dante walked toward the unknown with
faith, so too will I step into the space of uncertainty, trusting in the thrust
of my life and the work I have done to prepare myself for whatever lies ahead.
Purgatorio (the
second book) ends with these lines:
From that most holy wave I now returned
to Beatrice; remade, as new trees are
renewed when they bring forth new boughs, I was
pure and prepared to climb unto the stars.
This ending reminds us that the journey forward, though
difficult at times, promises renewal and rebirth. The “stars” (note, all three
books of The Divine Comedy end with
this word) symbolize the destination and the value of the journey itself. The
stars also serve as a larger metaphor for humanity—though we can never, with
our limited mortal understanding, truly comprehend the magnitude and
magnificence of them, and though their flame seems only a distant flicker, they
are sources of light, illuminating darkness, serving as guides when we feel uncertain
on our journey. Dante teaches us to step forward, even when we cannot know
where we’re heading, even when we are saddened by what we have to leave behind.
We have to keep moving toward the light of the stars.
