Thanks to my friend Moe, who calls herself Melissa now that we are grown up (sort of) I now attend yoga. This is a new love affair for me, and I could kick myself for waiting this long to incorporate it into my life.
I won't go crazy singing the praises of yoga, I will just suggest you find a good teacher and give it a try. You will be amazed at how it challenges you to stay in the moment and how it works muscles you never knew you had. You may, as I do, walk out of the class with a feeling of peace and harmony with yourself that lasts longer than the "I just went to the gym and knocked off another hour of my life" feeling.
Trust me, just give it a try and let it take you to a new place.
The instructor at yoga is Jeanne, aka my Fairy Godmother. A retired nurse, she is a tiny little sprite of a woman with really short salt and pepper hair and a presence as big as Texas. She scrapped nursing as we all fantasize about, and now does what makes her feel fulfilled and happy. In a way, she never left the profession because she helps me feel better about myself, which in my opinion is what nursing is all about. There is a place in heaven for Jeanne, and it's filled with incense and yoga mats.
Jeanne teaches different levels of yoga classes. I have been to basic Hatha yoga, which teaches you some poses and breathing, Chakra yoga; where I balanced my Mudlahara Chakra by putting my hands over my "mysteries" and breathing deep. Been there, used batteries. Never the less, I had great fun and relaxation in my Friday Yoga class.
When I got home, Bill built a fire for us, and even though it was 40 degrees, we sat out there until almost 3am chatting and drinking wine.
I love to chat with Bill. I love when he opens up and tells me things he is thinking, because 90% of the time Bill is listening to me and solving my problems. But sometimes he just talks, and that is when I sit back, wrap my blanket a little tighter and just listen.
As Bill talked, and although at this time I cannot remember what it was he was telling me, I had an epiphany. I realized that we are opposite elements. Bill is fire - warm, sunshine, early morning day person, up and at 'em, meditating at dawn. I am water - cool, moonlight, night owl, darkness, starlight - liking my fire in the form of a candle flickering in the night, preferring a lake or a pool with the stars shimmering overhead.
Bill could no sooner work night shift than I could work day shift. I talk his ear off, he listens, throwing Yoda-like euphemisms at me to keep me always pondering, pushing, chipping away at my goals. He meditates with all the serenity of Buddah, I sneak peeks out of the corner of my eye to see what's happening, lest I miss something important.
Yet it works somehow.
Twenty five years of being opposite elements have taught me that it's OK not to be joined at the hip. It's fine to sometimes sit without words, and that some people really are "not thinking about anything" when you ask them what they are thinking about. (That one took a lot of work to grasp, thanks to my ADHD). It isn't always perfect, but it is always real, without the posing I suffered through watching as a child. We carry on, Bill and I, through rough spots and financial messes and lack of family support and not nearly enough time to do the things we dream about. And while I thought at 20 that marriage was supposed to be presents and roses and spontaneity and surprises, I am grateful that I learned to embrace the presents of presence, the dandelion bouquets from the little girl we made, the spontaneity of a Friday night fire, and the surprise of the fact that dependability can be a really sexy thing.