On Wednesday, October 23, 2024, my youngest son and I went to the Indigo store in Brampton. This was an invitation from my son, who enjoys browsing bookstores, herbal teas, and, amazingly, my company.
It was a day to spend together, and his choices were going to the gym in the morning, returning home for a healthy lunch, and visiting Indigo afterward.
I led him to lead the way and became a devotee follower.
I was very light and in a flat emotional state—calm, as a follower can be, and without excitement.
Everything changed in an instant as I stepped into the store.
Right there, by the entrance, my eyes made instant contact with “Parabola. The Search for Meaning” magazine.
Like that, my heart pulse increased, and as my eyes soared for a while in those words and in that object, I felt a bittersweet feeling.
I curated a particular master yoga class around 2019. I brought this class for the first time to the former yoga studio, Kaulika Yoga, in Brampton. The first time I got this class there, it didn’t have a name. I asked the attendees for a name after the class, but in the absence of suggestions, I named it “Parabola or Parabola Flow” later. This came from the constant practice of noticing that the shape of the parabola was a continuous issue.
The Parabola Flow has stayed until today, even though it has not provoked much excitement within the yoga community. Participants are usually low in number. My mission, however, has not changed over the years and has not been impacted by the scarcity of glamorous attendance. I teach it; I lead this movement to the parabola pattern just to love it. Maybe one day, regardless of my care, I will attract more curiosity, which may lead to some understanding, including my own.
The discovery of the existence of this magazine with this name, since 1976-according to Mr. Google-was bittersweet. The fact that the magazine is apparently focused on spiritual traditions and myths was a complete ingredient for my feeling of awe. I was happy. I was sad. And how small I felt. Who am I to create such a name when this conceptual name for something other than a shape has been in the world, pulling the attention of many more incredible people than me? It was like, hey, neither I nor my creation is as important as this moment of discovery. And as my son was browsing away, I sent him a grateful look to his back for bringing me to this instant.
But it gets better. As I approached the magazine and took it to read its cover, I found several other points that resonated strongly with me: “The mystical number seven” and” Possessed by the Orisha.”
Over the years, some people close to me know how the number seven is always highlighted in my life, unintentionally or not. Seven is a persistent number around me, and I don’t think so because I was born in the seventh month of the year. I can not start here by giving you examples because they are endless. You can ask my boyfriend about it, whom I met on the seventh of a month, and for the numerologists, mainly on 02/07/2014, whose license plate has letters and the number 673. Being aware of the seven’s presence, I have played with it when creating classes, and I have been verbally opened to the auspiciousness of being in its combination. The Indigo store, by the way, is located at 52 Quarry. See? I don’t really want to start up!
On the other hand, Orishas are spirits or gods revered by Cuban people. I am from Habana and have witnessed the Santeria religion closely, a mixture of African roots and Cuban forms. No wonder there is also a Cuban music band called “Orishas.” My son’s father had some of the albums that my son inherited. We often hear one of their songs where the chorus is on repeat: “Represent, represent! Cuba!” This song, a part of our shared history, now carries a deeper meaning. One tangible possibility is that it was my son’s father, Cuban, who died in 2022, to whom we grieve profoundly, owner of the Orishas’ albums and believer of Santeria, leading us all along on that Wednesday.
I have the magazine now at home. I can read the first phrase from his editor: “Magic is ALL around us.” Tell me about it! Another interesting fact is that my boyfriend’s name is Jeff, and my ex-husband’s is Jeff. Like everything in my life, things are built in repetitive and mysterious patterns, so let the editor’s name be Jeff, too!
My ancestry is a mystery as well. This past July, my birthday month, my mother disclosed some dimmed light about my origins; it was unsurprising, although certain things I believed have now crumbled. Being in an eternal curiosity about paternal roots, is the answer to the persistent elements coming in, or does the universe want to give me the answers generously? Still, my understanding of the elements is so narrow that my fate is to be in the unknown. I have my values and aspirations, so let those be my focus. All this is the subject of another article, too dense to be here; otherwise, I will get you saying, as my coworker would say so gracefully, “Too much is going on!”
t. lopez
