Yoga Lady
Introduction
I met
Christine in 1997. I was playing on a concrete parking lot on a warm spring
night with my band, Rhythm Collective. It was our second gig. I looked up as we
started playing our first notes, and although I had to do a certain amount of
concentrating, I found I could not take my eyes off this one dancer. Tall and
elegant, her movements graceful, eyes full of soul.
Christine comes to dance. She is on the dance floor from the first note
that is played until the band says, “Good night, everybody. Go Home.” I was entranced by her focus. Christine
has the rhythm. She has all the moves. But she can send her mind elsewhere. Time
is somehow altered. She can communicate how much fun dancing is, and how we can
connect with the child inside of us.
She also conveys a deep faith. You want to know how she does
it.
So for two years I watched this lady dance. It was enough. We both felt
something, but doing what we did was enough. I sensed a depth in her. I was
finding answers to questions in my life at this time. My son encouraged me to
take my personal relationship with our Lord to a new level. I think that was the
spark that brought about an introduction.
A week after we were introduced R.C. was playing an outdoor gig again.
The Dog days of summer. We finished our set and I was wandering around the yard
of this friend’s farmhouse while another artist took the stage. I noticed Christine sitting on a blanket
on this small hillside. For once she was not dancing. I screwed up my courage
and said, “Hello. Mind if I sit
down?” I couldn’t read the expression on her face. It was guarded, yet friendly.
We talked a while. I mentioned that the singer on stage and I had gone to school
together. She asked me where that was. Turned out to be the same grade school
that she went to. That opens a lot of doors, when you find that common
ground.
What we were both searching
for was someone who could share the life of faith. We saw how relationships that
were apart from God were shaken apart like leaves in the wind. We knew that we
had to build on this Rock, in order to last. Two years later, we were married,
with a sacrament, in the eyes of God. What I saw on that dance floor was simply
love- for all of God’s creatures. A gift so rare, indeed, a true blessing for
those who take the time to learn from her.
This book is about Christine’s
personal journey. The circle of life that brought her to a life fulfilled, as a
child of God.
Foreword
My Lord has given me the strength and courage to share with you. He has healed my wounds. I share in order to touch another whose pain I can see. To know hope again. My Story.
In my life, time was in decades instead of minutes. Being lost and going in circles, sometimes squares. Here I am, Christine River Walker. I would like to share this story. I fought to open up, to heal old wounds of the flesh, to bare my soul to the world. Faith, Hope, and Divine Love are always and forever with us. We are connected, sisters, mothers, daughters. Connected with the ones who have lost all hope, the ones who feel so alone. Their membership in this world has no connection in words or the heart.
I know the lost and alone. I lived and breathed death, just wanting to go to sleep till there was no more waking up.
I was inspired to write this book in January 1998. I woke up one morning, sat straight up in bed, and said, “I have to write a book.” I have always expressed myself in dance, through working, listening and sharing. I began writing these notes with a dictionary close at hand and no prior experience; only a need to share the healing process I have been going through since I got my first Yoga book in 1975.
1. The Journey
Christine Mary Taylor was born April 20th, 1951 in Omaha, Nebraska. She was the third child of Earl and Marguerite Taylor
Just think of it as typing- or tychee ping
I AM GOING TO TRY AGAIN. What if? The BIG unknown in life happens. What will take me to the end and the beginning? If I do not touch the mouse the letters stay in line and the computer does not shutoff. Joseph, the paper clip is looking at me and he is very annoying. I have 1 red line and 1 green line. Looks like Christmas. Can I get a purple line? The risk I take is to move forward to learn from the past words that have been put down. Stay focused on now. Sometimes the happy paper clip, and the red and green A run in front of me. Diagnosis- ask the paper clip. I am running in front of my words and I do not know how to integrate it or something just happened more unwanted letters. Like thoughts that come and go. I love you Joseph! Hot date tonight! I cannot get rid of the id.
My name is Christine. I want to share my story. I do not always know how to begin or end, but in God’s speed, everything will come together. I was born, April 20th, 1951. I was raised in a simple home, Mom worked when I was small, and Dad also worked. Mom worked in an office at Union Pacific Railroad, and Dad was an auto painter (the best). Mom was a Roman Catholic woman and Dad was Baptist. I never knew he believed in God. Dad never went to church. He would stay home on Sundays while mom took us to church. She would wear a beautiful hat to church. One had beautiful pheasant feathers. I also got a catholic education through the 8th grade. I have an older sister, Cheryl and an older brother, Steven. We are close in age but not in spirit. 8 and ˝ years later, Sister Paula was brought home. Mom had lost a baby right before Paula was born. Another brother Paul John came along. There was a little sister, Patrice who came before last sister Ann. The last set of siblings, I did not know very well. Ann was born when I was in high school. Mom quit work when I was small. That is what I think I heard. She was a stay at home mom. She woke us up, and sent us to school. (Oh, and she snored.) She was active at school. She was a Brownie leader for Cheryl’s group and den leader for Steve’s Boy Scout troop. She prepared wonderful dinners, and we ate at the kitchen table as a family. When dad would come home he smelled like paint. We would look at all the different colors on his clothes, and see where dad had been all day. My grandmother and grandfather on my moms side (grandfather died when I was a little girl) and 2 uncles and 1 aunt, lived in the same house on 32nd and Stone Ave. I would walk by the house in the morning on the way to school and on the way home. I had 3 other ways to walk home. That way was good. We lived about a mile from grade school and a mile from high school. I walked and learned to enjoy the quietness of movement, and nature. We lived on a tall hill. I learned to enjoy going up the hill, home, rest, and food are there. My mom sewed our clothes, and later I enjoyed sewing and designing. Father had brothers that lived out in the country on acreages, some close to town, and some a little farther out. My dad was a farm boy. He had to quit school in 8th grade. I enjoyed visiting the acreages. Sometimes it was scary. They would drink and become loud. They would call names. Nigger lover. I hate that word. Thee anger it would raise still sends shivers down my spine. Mom and dad bought a calf and raised it on Uncle Glen or Dales property. We would garden. Mom canned tomatoes. We froze our vegetables. They enjoyed this. We kids would shuck the corn. I was not allowed to cook, except for baking cookies and cakes. Dad and mom bought a boat when I was still small. A Wooden boat was the first one. It was not very big, but mighty scary. Then we started camping on the river with friends and family members. I like the fires we would have in the backwashes of the river and watching the toads gather round the fire. I liked the smell of bacon and the sound of coffee perking. Sand everywhere. We would have ice cream on Sunday evenings. We also watched Walt Disney, and Ed Sullivan. I played outside a lot. I grew up climbing trees and running. I felt close to brother Steve when we were small. He liked to play. He sewed my Barbie dresses also. He was very strong so he could hurt when he thought he wasn’t. I learned to be comfortable with boys, and there was something honest about boys when they do not notice you are a girl. My sister Cheryl was just plain smart. She played a little, but I do not really remember closeness with her. We slept in the same bed, and I liked to massage her hand. Just to touch. We were close for a little while bit when she dated Dick, whom she married, and bless his soul has moved on to the next life. I also was tall, and Cheryl is short. There were a lot of dynamics when I look back on my life. I did not read a lot. My mom and Cheryl did. I think if I had learned about different ways from reading, I might not have had to learn strictly by experience. I enjoyed learning by seeing, touching, and experiencing. I enjoyed other families and seeing and touching and experiencing. Also listening. Mom and dad did not touch and affirm their love. Mom and dad could not say they loved me. One time I asked mom if she loved me and she laughed, and said, “that song, everybody hates me nobody loves me I think I’ll eat a worm.” I ate the worm. I used to like to dig in the alley. Big holes. I’d play in them. It was easy to get the worm.