Chanting ‘Om’ for Baby Sam I Am
Last Friday I had the incredible privilege of being a part of a memorial service for an 18 month super-hero who left this world too soon. He was the son of a school friend, and although I was never fortunate enough to meet little Sam, by all accounts he was an absolute legend. Judging from the turn out at the memorial service and the way in which people reacted on the day, this little dude really was something very special indeed.
As a mother of a 4 year old and a 2 year old, this whole tragedy was painfully close to my heart, and I confess that I spend the entire weekend that I heard about the accident in floods of tears, and spent more time at my meditation bench, with a candle lit for my friend and her husband and two remaining sons, than I recall doing in recent times. I cried when I woke up, I cried when I went to sleep, and the only thing I could do to start to make sense of this senseless situation was to meditate and to try to send love, light and acceptance to the bereaved family.
I wasn’t the only one – as the news spread, friends kept contacting me, asking if it was true and whether I knew any further details. We all were grieving, not just for the family and the deadening loss of this vibrant child, but for every single parent that ever has to experience this despicable turn of the natural order – no sweet quotes can ever make up for a parent having to bury their child.
The memorial service was simultaneously the most moving, emotional, harrowing and uplifting experience I have had in my life. As I arrived, the late afternoon sunshine was twinkling diagonally across the field in front of the graceful old Cape Dutch house, the oak trees were dancing in the wind, and there was the sound of a piper on the breeze – anyone who has heard this before will know what a haunting and emotive sound this is. Upon seeing the beautiful shrine set up in front of the natural marquis, with framed pictures of the precious little Sam, the white candles, wind chimes and bouquets decorating the oak trees around the tent, it was immediately apparent that this was going to be something to be remembered. The parents had asked for people to bring a plant to remember Sam in a memorial garden, and the beautifully delineated garden was literally bursting at the seams with all the offerings. I love to think how that garden is going to thrive as the years go by.
The service started with the most beautiful song, ‘Precious Child’ by Karen Taylor Good, and it was at this point that I gave up trying to stem the flow of tears, and instead allowed them to stream down my face as everyone ached along with the incredibly brave parents. We were all united through our floods of tears and an astronomical amount of respect for the family for how bravely they are handling this tragedy and what incredible support they are managing to provide to each other, even through their own personal pain.
The eulogy read by the mother – the beautiful, brave mother- brought everyone to their knees:
Our baby boy, our source of joy
Our brother and our friend.
We loved you then, we love you now
And this is not the end.
Your freckled nose, your cheeky grin
Your big blue eyes shone from within
Your joyous shouts of “gotta go!”
This world for you was just too slow
The way you lived, the way you loved
Was so intense and pure
And we hope that you felt treasured here,
Because, by God, you truly were
An old soul is what we called you
And that is what you are
We feel your love around us now
To help us heal these scars
You may not be here on this earth
But in our hearts you are alive
We are today, we’ll ALWAYS be
A family of five.
Love you always, Mommy, Daddy, Jack and Alex
We cried, we wept, we admired everyone who made a beautiful speech, and we applauded the farm labourers who showed their love for the baby himself, as well as a deep love and sense of respect for the parents. When hundreds of balloons – white (to symbolise all the spaces that will be left behind by this beautiful baby) and blue (to symbolise all the tears we will all shed that will be sent up to heaven rather than falling to the ground) – were released, we all watched them rise high into the sky and then drift off with the wind over the Overberg and into the great unknown. This was possibly the most heartrendingly beautiful part of the whole ceremony.
I have nothing to offer to the mother and father of this precious child, gone too soon. I am not religious, but my sense of spirituality deepens with each passing year, and especially with each passing person. So many people have written such beautiful things, and I can’t compete. So, simply, a few words:
When my precious granny passed away on 2 August 2012, I feel that I was fast-forwarded into the realm of pondering what’s beyond the here and now. My granny, Patricia Brink Langley, was not only the most stylish babe one could ever meet but the most wise, humorous and calm person you can imagine. She practiced yoga from her early days in then-Rhodesia, and she is most definitely the reason that I fell in love with the practice myself. For months since she died, I have felt that every time I ended a class and led the class in chanting ‘Om’, it was all about Patrish – that’s who I hold in my mind’s eye, and I as I bow my head down as the class ends, I see her face and can almost hear her saying in her gentle voice ‘Hello darling’. But now, every single time I prepare to get up off my yoga mat, she shares that precious moment with Sam, who is also front of mind when I turn my attention to the beautiful universe and trust that all is happening as it should.
I can’t imagine how you would ever make sense of the loss of this little/huge person. I see Sam everywhere. I keep you in my mind all the time, J and P, and that’s all I can do. See below for why Sam is ever-present in my yoga classes xxx
Om is a mantra, or vibration, that is traditionally chanted at the beginning and/or end of yoga sessions. It is said to be the sound of the universe.
Somehow the ancient yogis knew what scientists today are telling us—that the entire universe is moving. Nothing is ever solid or still. Everything that exists pulsates, creating a rhythmic vibration that the ancient yogis acknowledged with the sound of Om. We may not always be aware of this sound in our daily lives, but we can hear it in the rustling of the autumn leaves, the waves on the shore, the inside of a seashell.
Chanting Om allows us to recognize our experience as a reflection of how the whole universe moves—the setting sun, the rising moon, the ebb and flow of the tides, the beating of our hearts. As we chant Om, it takes us for a ride on this universal movement, through our breath, our awareness, and our physical energy, and we begin to sense a bigger connection that is both uplifting and soothing./