After what felt like over a dozen attempts, she forced her eyes open and jolted upright with a gasp. She was sweating but cold, and slightly dizzy. Her mouth felt dry and it took a moment to believe she was safe. As always when periodic episodes concluded, she panically searched for her phone and called her fiance.
“Good morning lil sleepy,” he said warmly after two rings.
“Hi, sorry. I know you’re mid-workout but I just need to hear your voice.”
“What’s up, bug? You okay?” his tone changed from playful to concerned.
“I’m okay, I just had an awful dream. Thank you for answering. I love you so much. Please get home safely” she said breathlessly after gulping down a whole cup of water.
“I’m sorry sweetie, I’ll be home soon to give you a big hug. Go take a walk in the sunshine, it’s a lovely day in the neighborhood! You’ll feel so much better.”
Lola leapt out of bed and checked the living room to ensure her cat was also alive and well. Sure enough, the small creature was perched in a tight loaf on the floor, perfectly centered in a strip of sunshine that was streaming in through the south-facing window. Her wide, lemur-esque eyes lazily opened and gazed up at her human in the doorway. She looked unamused.
It was a lovely day outside. Lola opened the front door and inhaled the crisp January morning. The bright sunlight was already dancing through the delicate leaves of the tree outside of her apartment. The thin edges of each leaf flickered bright green, emphasizing the intricate veins that were hard at work facilitating photosynthesis. A perfectly light breeze drifted through the alleyway and grazed her face. She closed her eyes and remembered being small and wishing she could be a butterfly, coasting freely through neighborhoods and gently landing on the apex of every beautiful tree she pleased. That way she could have a view of every person who was admiring the tree from below, then gracefully swoop down and land on their fingertip - making their day, maybe even their week!
A dark thought pierced through this memory. She shut the door and crumpled to the ground, wrapping her arms around her knees and burying her head in the couch cushion.
Her mind started to race as she thought,
Why do I deserve all of this? A comfortable place to live, healthy body, loving partner, wonderful friends, great education. On and on. There are so many people, over 100,000 at this point, who just lost their home in a blaze, and might not ever experience this access to peace again.
She tipped over into a fetal position on the ground, and the thoughts swelled to rumination.
She replayed the hyper realistic dream that had ravaged her sleep. In it, the world outside of her windows was dark; only a frenzy of embers interrupted the deep grey and orange skies. She was searching for her car keys and calling for her cat. There were sirens sounding in the distance, and she could hear people shouting as traffic piled up outside. Her phone was blaring an evacuation notice and she couldn’t get it to turn off. She wept helplessly, not knowing what to do. Her fiance wasn’t home and she couldn’t call him because of the relentless warning on her phone. Where was he? Still at work across town or already evacuating? Is he safe? She opened the front door to a gust of ash and smoke. It smelled like burnt plastic. Looking out past her building, she could see a high wall of impending fire hurtle over the canyon about a mile away.
Then everything in the dream dissolved and she fell down, down, into a liminal space. No walls, no sounds, smells or lights, no sense of location. Time felt cylindrical, wrapping infinitely around her disjointed consciousness. She was lucid enough to desire escape, but her arms, face, and chest were devoid of movement. Where was she and where did she need to be? Was she breathing, and what should breathing feel like? She willed her body to wake up and repeatedly failed.
Sleep paralysis feels like being buried under several feet of freshly shoveled earth. Not hard-packed soil that would instantly crush you, but a taunting weight that had the potential to be displaced… if only the buried were marginally stronger.
She shook away the potent memory and defiantly opened her eyes. Her cat was now an inch from her face, curiously sniffing her nose. The presence of Sarabi was always comforting, even when she was aloof or misbehaving. But in this moment she was attuning to her human’s distress and began purring loudly, sauntering in half moons that just lightly made contact with Lola’s arm. This felt powerfully nurturing, so she returned the gesture and gave the cat some high quality head scratches.
Feeling momentarily resorted, she exclaimed to her cat, “I’m going to the park!” then pushed herself off the floor. She changed into athletic clothes, washed her face with cold water and brushed her teeth well. Before heading out the door, she made the bed and grabbed her yoga mat.
The walk through her neighborhood was always enjoyable, even on cold and cloudy days. But today was purely gorgeous as her fiance had promised. The sun coated her exposed skin in warmth. A few stark white clouds hung lazily in the sky overhead. Birds were singing in the huge olive tree that littered fruit everywhere. As she walked, Lola tilted her head back and basked in the beauty of the day that contrasted dramatically with her haunting dream.
Upon arriving at the park, Lola noticed a man sleeping along the edge of the grass. He was curled up in a white sheet that was stained and ripped. One leg poked out of the sheet, and Lola’s spirits sank as she noticed the condition of his foot. He turned over and was now facing her way. The expression on his sleeping face looked strained and his mouth moved purposefully, as if he was having a deep conversation. Lola watched him for a moment longer then continued her walk to the other end of the park where she laid down her mat. Her mind, which had just been so present and at peace for the two blocks she walked, was now spiraling again.
How am I going to help him?
That could be me in the sheet.
Why aren’t I volunteering somewhere meaningful today?
I didn’t donate enough this year. I’m becoming so selfish.
I hope his feet aren’t infected.
I hope he is not in pain.
I can’t believe I let those leftovers go bad last week . . . so wasteful.
Does he have access to healthcare?
How would he get to a doctor?
She begged her brain to slow down and be quiet. The same brain that perceives immeasurable joy in her life also was the cause of persistent suffering. It had been almost four years since both of her grandmas passed away, which was around when her anxiety got this bad.
One of Lola’s grandmas made it to her eighties and had lived a long, hard, but ultimately fulfilling and empowered life. Once her third kid moved out and started their career, she separated from her husband and moved to a cabin in the solitude of rural southern Oregon. Lola loved visiting her every summer. They fed carrots to the neighbor’s horses, picked strawberries and lettuce from the abundant garden, and went on long walks along the lake while her grandma shared the botanical names of each plant and flower. Lola always admired her grandma for not only having the courage to leave a painful marriage, but also continuing to support and love her mentally ill and stubborn ex-husband from afar. This duality of bravery and selflessness left its mark on Lola.
Her other grandma left way too soon. In many ways, she was a second mother. She was the most gregarious woman Lola had ever known; she talked to strangers and left them feeling better about themselves, she entertained family and friends at her home with abundance, style, and comfort, and she was always a phone call away to save the day. She was the glue that held a tumultuous family together and got everyone laughing when tensions were high. In the 1960s, her high school voted her both Most Popular and Most Kind, but she always insisted to Lola and the other grandkids that genuine kindness is the accomplishment that actually matters when you’re looking back on your life. Dementia and cancer took this matriarch too soon. She still had so much life to live, and so many lives to touch.
Losing her grandmas fractured Lola’s grasp of reality. She couldn’t comprehend how a person could exist one day and be “gone” the next. Where did their essence go? Once a bold and confident person, she became anxious about many situations and would often get stuck in ruts of overwhelm that caused her to feel physically ill.
Lola didn’t talk about this with many people. She felt ashamed for being so affected by her elderly loss while people around the world lost parents, siblings, spouses, even children, every day. When she did share these existential feelings, her loved ones skillfully pulled her out of the mental mire, but she felt guilty about the burden it surely caused them.
During chapters of especially strong anxiety, Lola followed her childhood practice of imagining herself as a butterfly. With a body of mostly wings and a tiny head, she envisioned how light and free it would feel to soar through the wind, search for nectar, and lay eggs on milkweed with minimal thoughts. Sometimes this daydream was soothing, but after endless tragic global events over the past few years and the horrible fires that were spreading across LA, how could she reconcile living in a fleeting world where there was so much pain and loss?
The thoughts were interrupted by a soccer ball that rolled onto her mat. She looked up and saw a family laughing and running around on the grass together. Lola tossed the ball back in their direction. The little girl who received the ball and promptly kicked it to her father seemed to radiate joy. A toddler, presumably the younger brother, stumbled toward the direction of the ball and fell forward into the grass. He shrieked with laughter and his big sister picked him back up. They resumed their game with ease.
Lola noticed she was smiling, and she felt a flutter of happiness spread outward from her shoulders. She positioned her sandals at the top of her mat and leaned her phone against them, then selected a yoga class on YouTube and pressed play.
For the next twenty five minutes, Lola’s inner dialogue progressively silenced until her awareness shifted solely to her movements. She transitioned diligently between asanas, taking care to keep her core engaged and breathe consistently. She loved synchronizing ujjayi breath with the rhythms of each pose, as it reminded her of diving under big loud waves at the beach and emerging to peaceful victory each time.
While she was completing a sun salutation, Lola heard a noise behind her. She looked back to see an older woman sitting on a bench, staring wide-eyed past Lola’s mat. From downward dog, Lola couldn't tell if the open-mouth expression was positive or negative. She dropped to her knees and looked again, this time right-side up.
“Oh! Oh wow. Look at that,” the woman said to no one in particular. Her face was definitely one of pure delight. The woman started clapping. “Bravo!” she exclaimed. Lola looked in the direction of the spectacle, and saw a fit couple in the distance doing an impressive acro yoga flow. The man lying supine on the ground used his feet to launch his partner into the air, then she landed gracefully back onto his feet where she dropped to her glutes and swiveled 180 degrees to do a headstand on her partner’s outstretched hands. It was certainly applause-worthy.
Lola continued her own, less impressive, yoga flow and chuckled to herself about what a hilarious disaster it would be to attempt the same physical feat with her fiance. She used her next pose as an opportunity to look back at the older woman again. She observed her small but poised presence. The woman’s posture was perfect and she had resumed reading her thick novel, but a sweet smile lingered on her face, and she was humming to herself. Lola felt the flutter of happiness from earlier return.
About 10 minutes later, Lola was almost knocked over from her tree pose by a golden retriever who barrelled past her mat.
“Well hello handsome! May I have some of your ample exuberance?”
Lola turned to see the woman greeting and petting the dog joyfully. The huge smile was back on her face, and Lola caught herself mirroring the same smile. She went back into tree pose and then launched into the remainder of her practice with a lightness and ease that she hadn’t enjoyed in quite some time.
Finally, it was time for Lola to marinate in the relaxation of child’s pose. Endorphins from the flow were flooding Lola’s body. She wiped some sweat from her forehead.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Lola’s mind was almost quiet, except for this simple mantra of gratitude that she repeated to herself.
“Hungry! Hungry! Got some food?!”
Lola opened her eyes and saw the sleeping man from earlier walking toward her. He was gesturing animatedly in her direction. Lola’s mind instantly spiraled.
Shit. I don’t have any food or money on me. Maybe I’ll run home to get some trail mix - that would be some quick protein and healthy fat. But what if he is allergic to nuts? I’ll make a sandwich. And I can buy some water at the gas station too. And –
“How about a tangerine, sir?” The older woman stood up, set her book down and tossed the man a bright orange sphere. He caught it and shook it in the air with glee. “Citrus! Yes yes yes, sour and sweet. Thank you. Sour and sweet.” He shuffled away, methodically peeling the fruit and storing the peels in his shorts pocket. He was almost floating, he appeared so thrilled. Lola shook her head in wonder. This man, who looked like he hadn’t had a warm shower or real bed to sleep in for months, was beaming. After finishing the last segment of tangerine, he pulled the peel back out of his pocket, sat down on a rock, and appeared to smell it. He closed his eyes in bliss.
“Beautiful flight, dear.” The old woman was back on her bench, and directing her comment to Lola.
“I’m sorry, what do you mean?” Lola was confused.
“Warrior 3. Your form was gorgeous! Look at those long limbs. You were practically flying!” she remarked.
“Oh, wow. Thank you so much. I’m always a little nervous going into balancing postures. I’m afraid to fall. But that is really nice to hear. Do you practice yoga too?” Lola responded.
“My granddaughter was an avid yogi. I loved to watch her. I could never get into those positions, but I sure feel powerful watching you youngins ascend so nimbly!” the woman’s hands were clasped in front of her heart as if she were holding treasure.
“That is so sweet. Do you see your granddaughter often?”
“Not in this form. She passed on a few years ago. But I see her in the trees, and in the hummingbirds, and in the ocean. And here at this park. When you were flying earlier - you looked so elegant - when you were flying, you reminded me of her.” A tear dropped onto the woman’s book.
Lola didn’t know what to say. She felt tears swell in her eyes too.
The woman nodded her head while smiling knowingly at Lola. “Oh, I’m sorry sweetie. I always get too friendly with strangers! I’ll go back to reading. You enjoy your time in the sun.”
“Please don’t be sorry, what you just shared is truly a gift.”
Lola laid back into savasana. The flutters of happiness were all-present now, swirling in and around her. She had no thoughts. She only felt. And what she felt was life.