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Purgatory - Sunday, Feb. 10, 2019
Monday, Jul. 03, 2017 @ 10:17 pm
I arrive at yoga 2 minutes before class is to begin. Troy at the sign in desk. I really like him. I smile and say I haven't seen you in way too long. He asks how I'm doing. I scan my card. I look into the studio. Hah, guess which mat is empty?. It's front and centre, and really close into his teaching spot, and he always jokes that nobody takes that spot. I walk up to the spot, shrug my shoulders, and fling out my mat. The class cracks up with laughter. Nothing can shake my good mood, my brimming confidence.
I pull up in front of an older walk up apartment block, and Chris comes out of the building loaded up with gear. Big smiles. I open the back door of my car, and he leans over to swing his backpack onto the floor.
My eye catches the curved freckled skin of his neck, what is showing between his long blonde hair and the round neck of his t shirt. That swatch of honey skin, and my knees go weak.
I thought that I was over this.
I move through the flows and poses with my eyes closed. Breathing in, breathing out. Shutting out his voice, everything. Just breathe.
I move forward into something like a child imitating an airplane on one foot, arms wide, torso horizontal to the floor. I feel his body in the space around my body.
We weave mirror images of ourselves past each other. I keep my eyes closed. I can't bear for him to see my heart in my eyes.
I drive us north of the city, deep into the mountains. Off the highway onto gravel. Conscious that I'm driving standard, on a gravel road, two male passengers. I like the unorthodox image we portray.
We hike for three or four hours, straight up into the sky. Three quarters of a mile into the sky, my back loaded with thirty six pounds of gear, food, and water.
We reach the lake and whoop with joy, high five. A grey-blue glacier, seemingly lit from within, looms above the lake to the right. Another hangs from the slope up to the left.
Sweat is dripping from my shins.
The yoga flow stops in mountain pose. Open stance, legs firm into the ground.
I imagine roots growing from my legs down into the earth.
"What if you were to be happy right now. Just try it. Be happy. Right now. Forget everything. Just be happy."
And the sides of my lips curl up, my cheeks rising up warm.
In the evening, after supper and tea, we stroll out across the boulders and krumholtz in the golden hour light. A brisk wind causes all of the tiny heather flowers to quiver.
We climb up to a rise. The lake and glaciers to one side. Turn around, and the valley drops off below to forest and highway. The wind buffeting our jackets. My hair is out long, wavy, unkempt, tangling in the wind.
I stand there beside Chris. I stare at the light on the cliffs around us, how it is shifting quickly and highlighting all of the crevices and snowfields. The wind blowing, and lichen soft beneath my feet.
It smells like pine and thin mineral soil, a hint of smoke from somewhere off in the distance.
We stand there for a long time in silence. We don't look at each other.
It's an incredible moment of intimacy. To stand there beside someone, in the ultimate majesty of this earth, unspeaking.
I don't want the moment to end. It carries on. Twenty minutes. Thirty minutes. I don't know for how long. I daren't move because it's the most perfectly beautiful moment.
My mind travels in the long moment. I long for him to say something, to turn to me. At the same time, I'm terrified that he will say something, turn to me. I want everything and nothing.
And then I remember Troy.
What if you were happy, right now. Just be happy.
And I close my eyes and smile.
This is what I want, right here. I don't need more than this. Everything is perfect. I can love him and this moment, and that is enough. It's more than enough.
I stand there, happy. I open my heart towards the setting sun and send out rays of love to Chris, to the earth, to life.
(Thanks for reminding me that I used to post photos, Narcissa.)