Receive the Blessing of Friendship: Kula

While I’m home recovering from a surgical procedure I had on August 7th, I’ve had some time to reflect on the blessing of friendship. During normal times, I realize that I sometimes take friendship for granted. When I’m healthy and able to take care of myself, I don’t always think about how much my friends mean to me. But during my recovery, I’ve been reminded of just how beautiful it is to have people who check in on me, ask how I’m doing, and let me know that they’re there.

I can do most things for myself but knowing that someone is there if I actually need something brings a deep sense of safety. More than that, it helps me feel seen, cared for, and most of all, loved.

Love comes in many forms, and there’s something especially beautiful about the innocent, complete love of friendship. It isn’t a love that demands anything in return. It comes from the genuine recognition of another person—the soul inside that body—and a simple desire for their wellbeing.

I think, as human beings, we all carry within us this impulse to care for one another. There may be no tangible reward for caring for another person other than the feeling that we’ve helped make someone’s life a little easier. And somehow, that is enough. A selfless act carries its own inward reward: a sense of purpose, usefulness, and the profound fulfillment of being of service to another human being.

This is the essence of Kula.

Kula means community of the heart.

In yoga, it speaks to the sacred reciprocity of giving and receiving. Kula reminds us that we are not alone in this world. We are intimately connected, woven into one another’s lives. When one person suffers, we all suffer. And when one person is supported, loved, and uplifted, that love ripples outward.

To practice Kula is not only to care for others and offer our help. It is also to soften ourselves enough to receive help from others. This can be surprisingly difficult. We may be good caregivers, always willing to show up for someone else, yet somehow feel uncomfortable when the roles are reversed. Why is that?

It’s worth asking ourselves:

Am I able to open myself to receive loving care from others?

What holds me back from receiving support?

What might I need to let go of in order to allow myself to be supported?

I know that, for me, there was a time in my life when I couldn’t really receive support from others. I couldn’t let the love in. I think, at the root of it, I was struggling with unworthiness. If I wasn’t able to fully love myself, how could I possibly allow someone else to love me?

Over time, I’ve been able to release some of what held me back. And yet, even now, there are moments when I have to take a deep breath and consciously let the love in. It feels good to let go. It feels good to allow myself to be loved.

Deep inside, I tell myself:

I’m okay.

It’s okay to receive this.

I am worthy of love.

Being on the receiving end of so much love during my recovery has reminded me how gratifying and soothing it can be to simply be with another person. Sometimes, when we set aside the busyness of life and sit with someone who is hurting or healing, something deeper becomes possible. The most meaningful conversations can arise in those quiet moments of presence.

During my recovery, I had the opportunity to spend several hours with two of my swimmer friends. In that time, I got to know them in a way I never had before. They shared stories about their lives—their experiences, their victories, their challenges. I listened, and I watched their greatness blossom right in front of my eyes.

Before this, they were simply teammates, athletic buddies. Now they are so much more. I feel more connected to them because they allowed me to see and know more of who they really are.

Last summer, when I had my bicycle/bear incident, another swimmer friend of mine who lives just a few miles away, showed up and offered to cut my grass. Knowing how quickly the grass grows in the summer in the Berkshires—especially when we have a lot of rain—his offer was such a loving gesture. It was a huge relief to know that I didn’t have to worry about my lawn while I was recovering.

And he kept coming back, week after week, until I was well enough to do it myself. Never a complaint. Always a smile. He genuinely enjoyed cutting my lawn. After all, he’s an engineer, and he loves solving problems and increasing his efficiency. He even figured out the best algorithm for cutting my grass in record time!

This summer, I thought I’d be able to cut the grass after a week of recovery, which I probably will be able to do. But the grass has grown faster than my body could heal. So I called my friend. Sure enough, he was right there, once again, willing to cut the grass for me. It was such a simple act of love. Tangible. Receivable. And something I appreciated with my whole being.

I find that I often traverse a fine line between asking for help and simply keeping quiet. I don’t want to bother anyone. I know everyone is busy in today’s crazy world, and I don’t want to impose. 

But I’m learning that there is another way.

As I’ve allowed myself to soften and receive, I’ve also learned to let go of being attached to the result. Not everyone will have the time or capacity to help, and that’s okay. I can ask without demanding. I can reach out without expectation. And when I do, I can simply allow the universe to support me in whatever way it does.

This, too, is Kula.

My heart is so full of joy, even as I navigate pain and allow my body to heal. The power of friendship is a real blessing. So, if you find yourself in need of support, I encourage you to take a little risk and reach out to your friends. Let someone know that you could use some company, a listening ear, a helping hand, or simply a little love.

And if you have the time and someone in your life is struggling, consider showing up for them. Sit with them. Listen to their story. Offer your presence. Offer your heart. There is a special blessing in these moments—a blessing of connection, empathy, recognition, caring, and love.

The truth is all of us need help sometimes. Perhaps we can embrace that not as a weakness, but as part of our humanness. And perhaps the deeper teaching of Kula is not simply learning how to give but learning how to receive—to soften the walls around the heart, to let ourselves be held, and to recognize that we were never meant to walk this life alone.

May we be humble enough to give.

May we be open enough to receive.

And may we recognize the blessing of being part of this beautiful community of the heart.

Namaste,

Todd