Summer 2016: A Season of Life, Death, and Rebirth

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.