I started doing some asanas this evening, and got a big smile on my face.
I felt free again.
I felt peaceful.
I felt open and ready to embrace life and love.
Then my husband (we’ll just call him Schofie from now on) smirked at me.
“I knew you needed this.” He grinned.
“What do you mean?”
“You have been…”, he cautiously searched for a delicate way to phrase it, “You have been a little irritable lately, and I noticed that you haven’t been doing your yoga as often…I just knew that you really needed to do it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it’s not my job to tell you. It’s my job to love you… Also that would’ve been your sanity and my life on the line.”
I love Schofie. He knows me better than myself. He know’s when I need to be told, “Baby, I think you should work out…” and when to keep his mouth shut. But now I know. I know just how much doing consistent yoga affects my life and my loved ones. I could feel that I’ve lost some flexibility in both my muscles, and my mind. So here I sit, showered and clean, and convicted. I have been focused more on the nutrition side of things, and less on the fitness, and Lord knows they go hand-in-hand.
Thanks to my best friend though, I’ve been reminded of finding a balance.
I have found my breath.