“Death can come at any minute, in any way. We do not know what is in store tomorrow, or whether there is a tomorrow...But still, we have the golden present. Now we are alive and kicking. What should we do now? Love all, serve all!”
Joey lived the embodiment of these words attributed to his guru, the late Swami Satchidananda Saraswati, a yoga master and spiritual teacher who gained fame for bringing classical Yoga tradition to the West in the 60s. He regularly attended the Integral Yoga Institute in NYC, a beacon for spiritual seekers, and ashram (teaching center), even during some of his time on Wall Street. I had the pleasure to attend a class and teaching there one day.
Joey and I were classmates at the former Our Lady of Grace Elementary School and we graduated from Hoboken High School, class of 1968. We loved playing poker for money and playing basketball in varying neighborhood venues. Though we hung out in different neighborhoods, we always managed to stay connected. Joey, who was president of "The Investor’s Club" predictably secured a job on Wall Street, eventually obtaining a seat on the New York Stock Exchange (NYSE) while I went off to college and medical school and eventually became a board-certified minimally invasive foot surgeon. But, in years to come our lives would change drastically. Humbled by life’s experiences, we both left our respective fields of endeavor. At about the time I was teaching yoga in Northern California I had heard through the family grapevine, Joey was teaching Hatha Yoga at the iconic Hoboken Elks Lodge 74. One day I was sitting on the steps (stoop) of my late parents 5-unit apartment building at 156 5th Street where I grew up as a kid, when Joey energetically exited an automobile of a friend's with a big smile. He was wearing a long coat and sporting his signature ponytail and wire rimmed glasses. We gave each other a big strong hug. That serendipitous reunion set the tone for future get togethers whenever I was in Hoboken. He was the first person I called to arrange a light breakfast or lunch at Panera’s on Washington Street or Del Frisco’s, or the "W Hotel" on the Hudson near Devotion Yoga where I attended classes. We would talk for hours waxing philosophically about life and the nature of the mind. I also attended yoga classes he taught at the Elks Lodge where my dad, Frank—nearing a 100 at the time—became an honorary life member. Joey was a long-time member and was very respectful of my dad and was at his side whenever dad was being recognized. Joey was by my side when my dad was being recognized for his lifetime achievements by city, county and state officials including mayor’s office (Dawn Zimmer at the time). He was also present when my dad was acknowledged by the Office of the Veterans’s affairs in the Rotunda of the Justice William Brennan Courthouse in Jersey City and my mom Maria and dad’s funeral. Since retiring from the NYSE, Joey put the teachings he had learned from his “guru” (which broadly translated means to 'dispel darkness') to good use by teaching his students how to facilitate having an easy body, a peaceful mind, a useful life, and ultimately, the realization of one’s true self. Though he was raised Catholic like myself, the Eastern mystics encouraged interfaith harmony, with a goal toward promoting peace in the individual and by extension in the world. Joey believed that it is the birthright of any individual to realize the true self, to recognize the unity within diversity. The little advertising he did for his classes were posters that promised the idea of “Satisfaction Guaranteed.” He taught an hour and half class on a walk-in basis, and charged a nominal fee. But, as any of his students would tell you, it was never about the money, and though I tried many times, he never accepted a cent from me.
Joey was all about service. He was keenly aware of the human condition. He knew what loss was, having lost his beloved son John Patrick Brennan almost three years ago. He was a charitable and humble person. He stood up and persistently spoke out against injustices in the world. He had compassion for the downtrodden and friends and neighbors who were going through difficult times. As a member of the Elk’s Lodge he volunteered to serve food to those affected by the aftermath Hurricane Sandy. Hoboken streets were underwater at the time.
Joey had a well disciplined, clear and calm mind; his intellect was razor sharp, a will as strong and pliable as steel, a heart full of unconditional love and compassion, an ego as pure as crystal. He knew enough not to believe all our thoughts, that it is the mind playing tricks on us and like emotions, they rise and fall away like the in-breath and out-breath and the rising and falling of the abdomen he taught his students to focus on during meditation.. He believed that any kind of expectation creates a problem, that we should accept, but not expect. Whatever comes, accept it. Whatever goes, accept it. The immediate benefit is that your mind is always peaceful.
So in his memory of my dear friend Joseph Brennan I have adapted a poem by Naomi Shihab Nye called Kindness.*
"Before you know what kindness really is you must lose things, feel the future dissolve in a moment like salt in a weakened broth. What you held in your hand, what you counted and carefully saved, all this must go so you know how desolate the landscape can be between the regions of kindness…Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho lies dead by the side of the road. You must see how this could be you, how he too was someone who journeyed through the night with plans and the simple breath that kept him alive. Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside, you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing. You must wake up with sorrow. You must speak to it till you voice catches the thread of all sorrow and see the size of the cloth. Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore…Only kindness that raises its head from the crowd of the world to say It is you I have been looking for, and then goes with you everywhere like a shadow or a friend.”
Rest in Peace, my dear friend. I will always remember the end of your voice mail message whenever you weren’t home to take the call: “May you realize that today is the greatest day of your life. Om [the sound of the Universe] Shanti [Peace].”
Postscript: Heartfelt condolences to Mary Brennan and Liano Spano-Brennan and family from Dennis and Cecile Augustine. A donation will be made to The Integral Yoga Institute in Joe’s memory.
* Kindness (From Words Under the Words: Selected Poems. Copyright 1995 by Naomi Shihab Nye)
