Holding Grief and Joy in the Same Breath

In my yoga classes—both in person at the Y and online—we’ve been exploring the beautiful tension of being human. The way grief and joy can live side by side, sometimes even in the same breath. The way music, poetry, and movement can hold what words alone cannot.

One song that has stayed with me is Gajumaru by Yaima—so full of power and tenderness. The words are hauntingly beautiful, and I’ve returned to them again and again. (You can listen here if you’d like to experience it, too.)

I’ve also been deeply touched by the poetry and writings of Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer. Her work reminds me of the sacredness of showing up, even when the heart is heavy. Rosemerry knows grief intimately—she lost her son, Finn, to suicide just before his 17th birthday. Recently, her daughter Vivian turned 17, a milestone captured in Rosemerry’s poem The Mother Wonders about Love, a devotion to the child who remains while honoring the child who soars.

Like Rosemerry, I too walk this paradox. My daughter, Candace, lives and walks this earth, while my son, Judson, soars with the angels. It’s tough, my friends—so very tough.

And this is why each and every one of you matters so deeply to me. I am continually moved by the strength and softness you bring to the mat. Whether you’re practicing beside me in the room or following along from home, you are part of what makes this community so meaningful. Thank you for trusting me with your practice. Thank you for the hugs, spoken and unspoken.

I am endlessly grateful for the beauty of yoga—this ancient, sacred practice that heals from the inside out: body, mind, and spirit. Most of you know I never would have started teaching yoga without the love and memory of Judson. His spirit lives in every breath I guide, and in moments like these, I feel him—and you—all around me.

With love and deep gratitude,
Jami

Resources & Inspirations

• 🌿 Song: Yaima – Pellucidity

• 🎥 Explore more practices: Jami’s Fit for Life YouTube Channel

• 📖 Poem: The Mother Wonders about Love by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

  The Mother Wonders about Love

  for Vivian on her 17th birthday

  I don’t understand how it is that loving you

  asks both everything and nothing from me.

  Every day since your birth I have nourished

  this love with time, with touch, with words,

  and loved you the way I was loved—knowing

  there is nothing you could do or be that

  could make me stop loving you. I thought

  I was making a refuge for you, but

  every day since your birth, the love

  you’ve given back to me has become

  my sanctuary, a place I show up exactly as I am,

  with bad breath, with tired arms, with a faulty

  memory and dirt in my fingernails and trust

  you will love me, too. Every day we build together

  the nest of love. Once we wove in fairy houses

  and reading books and making up secret handshakes.

  Now we weave in cinema and long road trips and

  floating on the pond. And trust is the glue

  that holds the nest together, even as

  it changes every day. It surprises me

  the nest of love is less a place and more

  a spaciousness inside—not somewhere we go,

  more something we are, so even when

  we’re not together, the refuge is always within us,

  a love that asks nothing and everything,

  a home that grows as we both continue to grow.

  —Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer