As I closed my eyes in our final relaxation pose after an exceptionally beautiful yoga practice today led by Suzanne Pesce, I thought about a client of mine, who is in his late 80s. He is finally remembering an old willow tree that he and his friends played under and on for hours on end during the summer. It was easy to see it as he described it. As he talked, I was struck by the power of everyday moments that we sometimes take for granted.

Then I thought about my dog, and how I was looking straight into her eyes before she died. I was glad for a moment that my eyes were the last thing she saw. Soon, my thoughts turned to soldiers who died in battle, and I hoped with all my might that they saw something beautiful before they died.

Maybe they saw a blade of grass, a yellow dandelion, or a friend's face. Maybe the sun glittered up water in a puddle. Maybe there was an interesting cloud, or a blue sky. Maybe an ant carrying an impossibly heavy load distracted them momentarily from the ugliness of a battle field. A red poppy seems like too much to ask for, but it's possible that a bright colorful flower survived. It's possible that birdsong reached their ears for just a moment.

If no beauty was near, I've done enough research on death and dying to believe that we all see something beautiful as we die. Many of us will see our loved ones, some see the face of "God", and across the board people report a positive experience of glorious light and touching replays of the most beautiful parts of their life.

This thought felt like a comforting reminder to the families of our military men and women who died in battle. (The world really is beautiful when we remember to look.)

May all beings be well, happy and peaceful. May all beings enjoy the everyday miracle of the present moment.

May the world know peace, soon.

I love you and I remember you

Mary