The daylight approaching dusk is dancing through the bare branches in the tree tops. It lasts only a moment before the cloud cover consumes the sun. The boards of the deck beneath my back are sturdy yet forgiving underneath my yoga mat. Tears stream down the sides of my eyes and disappear into my sweat dampened hair. I feel the nub of the pony tail pushing against the nape of my neck, and somehow this feels like my hair is holding me.
Just before class he told me he was leaving the studio. I started teaching here in no small part due to his presence and at his recommendation. With only a month of teaching under my belt I felt he was leaving me to learn alone before he ever had a chance to actually mentor me. Maybe this was for the best I told myself, sobbing through every pose he’d delicately delivered as I practiced letting go.
I know that every time I love something completely it either transforms into something deeper or it disappears, clearing the way for the next thing to love. And I secretly love this man. Have I loved him right out of my life? Still he holds me with his presence in savasana. I can no longer count the times we’ve cried together in this final resting pose. There is still something here to be discovered. All I can think to do is be as honest as I can possibly manage about how I feel about him. With this decision made in my heart I feel the tears begin to subside. Another breath and his gentle velvety voice is calling the class’s attention back to the body.
I take my time wiping down my mat then packing it away with my blocks and disinfectant wipes. Everyone leaves and he asks me tenderly “How are you doing, Jenny?”
“I’m Fine.” I can’t seem to look at him.
He picks up the tray of flowers and incense from the alter space and takes them inside. He comes back out and locks the door then places the key in its hiding spot.
“Now I feel bad for telling you.” He says as he walks towards me to sit down and retrieve his own bag from the nearby bench.
“I’m glad you told me before class. So I could work through my feelings during class.”
He nods and places the strap of his bag over his shoulder and adjusts it across his chest. I move to stand next to where he is sitting and take a deep breath hoping the right words come out.
“What I really want is to grow with you in my practice as I grow.”
He makes an audible aww sound and I feel my whole body relax into the safety of that syllable.
“I was really looking forward to watching you blossom as a teacher.” he returned.
I ask him what he wants to do next, secretly hoping there could be a place for me, and he starts talking about a book he is writing.
“Maybe you could manage me and help keep me on track.” He suggests as we walk barefoot on the boards towards the exit.
“I would totally manage you.” I chuckle with an innuendo that almost surprises me. I feel like I should be embarrassed at myself, but the desire to write books together is so much stronger. So I tell him about the books I wish to write as we put on our shoes and walk down the grey gravel driveway.
Just before we part to each go to our cars he makes one more suggestion.
“Maybe we could manage each other.”
“Absolutely” I reply with a smile that fills me with a whole new level of hopeful delight.
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