The Goddess

 This morning, no one showed up for yoga class. Carin and I centered our meditation pillows in the middle of the yoga studio. The room was old enough to have a hardwood floor with boards that still met at the edges, but the floor undulated up and down like a wake from a slow ferry. I liked to blame the floor each time I fell out of tree pose. 

When Carin gave Jazz Reiki in the smaller back room, Jazz seemed to follow a figure-eight path throughout the session. What would change is which body part she would present to Carin to focus on, or what trouble spot Carin would identify that she felt Jazz needed the most assistance with. It changed week to week. Exploring the larger space, Jazz went first to the drawer that held the lavender pillows. She inhaled deeply while she slid her nose on the upper crack of the drawer, taking in the lavender scent. It must have been the strongest scent in the room and I am sure she had no doubt that food might be involved. Not much still worked, but her nose certainly did. 

She moseyed about the room in her doggie way during our meditation, but when Carin raised her palms skyward as I opened my eyes, Jazz left the yoga blocks in the corner and came to stand in front of her. She licked her left hand a few times, in a getting-the-crumbs-off-the-skin way and then she turned her head and very methodically licked Carin’s right hand. Finally, she turned and walked away. She circled around me and came back to stand six feet from Carin. She started the now-familiar pant, signaling she was focused inward. 

After a time, Carin completed her evaluation, “How’s she feeling this week? Her stomach seems really sour.” She shut her eyes again. 

I hesitated before responding, “Queasy, nauseous.” 

I’m not sure what she needs, hold on.” Carin shut her eyes again. “Probiotics, yogurt, she needs something to help her digestion. Small meals would also help. Not too much food all at once.” 

I watched Jazz break her own reverie as Carin focused her attention on me. She moved closer to stand between us. I resisted the urge to rub her shoulder, “She hasn’t had the best week for her stomach. She had diarrhea on Wednesday that morphed into projectile vomiting by Thursday. She was fine yesterday and last night, but it took quite a bit out of her. Poor doll. Just as we stabilized her weight, she went through this and lost a pound. She slept all day yesterday so I know it wiped her out. She didn’t even do her normal pacing. I was in New York so Rick had to pick up after her. Thank God for Rick. I’d have to sell my business to stay home and care for her.” Surreptitiously, I 

squeezed my pocket with my elbow. I felt the potty bag and the paper towels dipped in Nature’s Miracle, ready in case Jazz had an accident during Reiki. So far, so good. 

“I’ll see what I can do for her stomach. Her hips are just there she says, not too hard to deal with today. It must be the mild weather that is helping out.” Carin inhaled deeply and blew the air out, forcefully directing the universe to mend Jazz’s intestines. 

“Who is from Colorado? There’s a boy, a boy from Colorado. Do you have family visiting?” 

“No family, but we have a puppy and he came from Colorado. Jazz would know because Rick flew out to get him.” 

“Okay, let’s see.” Carin talked back and forth between Jazz and me. Jazz traveled the figure-eight path several times, stopping at various points, often facing Carin. “Well, she likes him because he is young and it provides a viewpoint that she didn’t have before. She didn’t know how old she was until the puppy was in the house, and she saw how young he was in comparison to her and Bob. She likes it, though. She keeps bringing it up. Okay, enough chatting, back to you, Jazz.” 

I watched as Jazz’s figure-eights stayed consistently around us and I wondered if she ever thought back to all those miles of figure-eight’s that we had heeled together. She broke from the pattern all of a sudden and walked to the corner of the studio. There was a statue of a goddess in the corner, her left arm extended to her open hand. I had attended yoga often enough to know I was to practice non-attachment, that elusive letting-go, that elusive not-caring-about-the-outcome, only the journey. The truth was, I was attached to lots, and I was attached to the back corner of the yoga studio. I showed up early to stake my claim on my corner of the room before every class. It just happened that the goddess shared it with me. Now I watched Jazz walk to the goddess and lick her left hand twice. Then she turned, shuffling to the lavender drawer to investigate it once more. Carin, her eyes shut, seemed far away and didn’t realize that Jazz appeared to have checked out. Her palms were raised in front of her. 

“Jazz just did something really weird.” 

Carin opened her eyes, “What?” She looked around and sought Jazz, who was now standing quietly behind her. 

“She went up to the goddess and licked her left hand. Twice. She was across the room and she walked right up to her, and did it.” 

Carin laughed, “Ah, Jazz. She must have gotten confused. In my heart, I asked her to lick my left hand when she was through. She just licked the wrong palm, that’s all. But she was listening.” 

She was listening, I thought. But I was sad she had made the mistake. 

After a five-minute saunter at Brookwood Hall, Jazz lay on her yellow bed and slept peacefully until dinner time. No pains and no worries woke her.