I was driving to work, dreading it. It occurred to me that at work, I won’t see anyone I love.

Then I thought “Who do I love?” The immediate answer is “nobody”. I’m not married, no wife, no kids, no really close friends, hated my parents growing up..

Then I thought “what is love?” There’s different versions of love I think. I love my yoga teachers, co-yogis and my few students.

Is there casual love and serious love? It is definitely not appropriate to tell my teachers and students I love them, and I don’t think their definition of love is the same as mine. I don’t think any of my teachers or students would say they love me.

I started yoga when I was 60 years old. Since then, I’ve felt like my life has been on the wrong path since it began. I wish I’d have discovered yoga and meditation decades earlier.

Yoga, and the people of yoga, give me a feeling that I’ve never felt before. And I can think of only one word that describes it.

I’m retiring soon, looking at the next stage of my life. I’m torn between hope that it’s not too late for my life to start, hope that there’s a place for me there, and the regret of a wasted past.