a decision

The beginning of summer is the most random days of my year. It is this unknown time when I shift from a very structured routine into complete autonomy. During class yesterday, the red head character asked, "I've always wondered, what do teachers do during the summer?" to which I replied, "Anything we want."

That's the amazing yet terrifying thing about summer when you're an adult. The months of the summer are a blank canvas. You have the freedom that you haven't had for 180+ days. And for the people who don't teach and work year around, I applaud you and I am sorry you do not have a summer; however, the toll that a true teacher feels once summer arrives in indescribable. My boyfriend told me today "just so you know babe, I move real slowly the first week of summer - you know, just recovering from the school year." And I completely agree. It's like a time we need to recharge our batteries before taking paint to this summer's canvas. If you do not take this time carefully, your canvas can end up being a mess at the end.

Today was an adventure filled with House of Cards, errands, a Wendy's frosty, window shopping, laughter, and Game 3 of the NBA Finals (still going, 4th quarter 6 minutes left and I don't know if the Cavs will pull this W out). As I try to find a new routine, I realize today I won't make it to the studio, and that's okay. Why? Because I have begun to trust myself within my own practice to know I can successfully complete a routine on my own.

So, during halftime, as my boyfriend continues to type on his new wix website, I roll out the mat behind the Ikea couch listening to the commentators in the background and set up my MacBook with a quick bedtime yoga routine I found on YouTube. One of the beauties of yoga I am finding more and more to be true is that it is an act you can truly do any where at any time.

I pace myself through this brief routine. Once at the end, I can feel my body yearning for some inverted positions. I glance around the townhouse. My boyfriend is a bookaholic and there are (no kidding) 28 bookcases on the first floor (which I adore about him), so I am wandering around looking for any wall space feeling more and more doubtful. He inquires about what I am doing, I tell him, and he suggests using the front door (a location we honestly do not use much of, but it would be a little extreme for him to put a bookcase there; therefore, there is wall space available). Perfect.

I move the blue ribbed mat in front of the door, swing my legs up onto the door, and realize I don't want to be over here counting my breaths but I also did not bring my phone over there to time myself.

"Hey babe..."

"Yeah?"

"Could you time me please?"

"Time you?"

"Yes, four minutes," as I flex my feet so they are parallel to the ceiling.

"Okay babe."

"Okay, go ahead," I request. He starts the time. We can't see each other. But that's fine. I am focused on my breath: inhale deeply belly raising up, exhale slowly through my nose pacing the flow.

My mind begins to wonder. Crap! I did not set an intention for my practice tonight. I recognize this misstep. Not that you always need to be thinking of some bigger-that-yourself-concept when you practice yoga, but it is more meaningful when you can connect an intention to the mental focus and physical focus you take part in through yoga. How much time has passed? Did he set a timer or just look at the clock? What if he got distracted working on his website? Or checking for a book on Amazon? I realize I need an intention here and now. Is he paying attention to the time? Four minutes isn't this long...wait...I trust him. I asked to do something for me, and he is always there for me, so why is this different? Because I can't see him? That doesn't change anything. Trust. My intention is trust.

Trust is this beautiful thing that we allow the world to tarnish for no reason at all. Trust is one of our most valuable items, and yes we must be careful who we invest our trust in, but even when we make errors in our investments they cannot stop us from investing in the future. I am invested in my yoga practice and in my writing. These are things I can control, and that is healthy. Additionally, I am invested in him with my trust.

He will tell me when the time is up. Inhale...exhale...inhale...exhale.

*ring...ring...*

"Your time is up baby,"

"Thank you. Will you set it for two minutes now?"

"Two minutes?"

"Yeah babe, it's more another pose."

"Okay, go" he replies. No hesitation. Just ready to support me whatever I need.

Trust. It is a beautiful thing.