I woke up this morning in a sandwich. My husband on one side and my baby nestled into my front body, with the dog curled up at my feet. If that’s not heaven, I don’t know what is. Love is the greatest truth. It’s interesting to be in a place of love like that when I have spent much of my life feeling like an outsider. I would be lying if I said that I don’t feel this ever anymore, but it is much rarer than it was. It wasn’t until I came to doing yoga regularly that I discovered a sense of home and became surrounded by a bunch of people like myself, a sort of spiritual gunslinger that was roaming through the night trying to find the truth.
You may be surprised that I didn’t marry another gunslinger and in fact if you looked up man’s man in the dictionary you may find a picture of my husband there with his dimpled smile and twinkling eyes ready to fix anything that’s broken. Well…almost. Many people who know us for a long time were like, “What are these two people doing together?” and its entirely possible people are still asking the question. If we are honest I’m certain there are times we ask the question as well. What I appreciate about our relationship is that it keeps me growing and grounded. With him I don’t float too far off into the spiritual landscape and I get challenged with all that baggage that we are all lugging around from our past.
So it is with this contented heart this morning that after my baby falls asleep, I will unroll my black manduka mat (which I secretly call the Black Mamba in the spirit of Kill Bill, and yes I love Kill Bill and all other things Tarantino, we are all complicated like that) and explore what’s happening in my body this morning, and just like breakfast, yoga is going to be delicious.