I mentioned during the summer that I’d be taking a Yin class this fall. I love the idea of sustained poses and a relaxed attitude toward form. I do Ashtanga yoga and pictured Yin as a lovely complement.
So I mentioned my plan to Pat, my lovely man, who has been doing Yin classes since last Christmas.
“Picture the togetherness,” I say.”Something we both love to do! It’ll be fun!” I repeat the fun bit, because his face does not shine with the excitement I’d imagined. “It’ll be fun,” I say, one last time. This is followed by a prolonged silence.
“What?” I ask.
“It’s nothing,” he says. “Except it’s my class. It’s my time. I like the fact that it’s my own thing. There’s another Yin class in the afternoon. Why don’t you try that one?”
In my young and foolish days (until I was 45, say), I would have been offended, hurt, and skillfully nasty in return. I can’t do that now because I get what he’s saying. Completely.
There are things I love to do with him, and things I want for myself. We love driving together, we don’t love cooking together. We love going to the theater together, I love being the only actor in the house.
If he wants that one Yin class on his own, that’s good with me. I’ll just watch his moves at home or make time on Thursday afternoons to get to the other class.
All of which makes me wonder: Do you love to be by yourself in your class or do you love to be surrounded by friends? How about your spouse? Would you love him or her to be there? Is yoga your solo thing or your social/romantic time?
Thanks to Pat for honesty and self-respect. Thanks to yoga for containing all kinds of choice and opportunity, and thank you for the conversation,