“There is only so many romantic dates a man can go on in London before he goes ape-shit crazy,” my partner exclaimed, staring at the menu at Le Pont de la Tour, my favourite restaurant. “And why are we sitting on &^*%$%@#@ sheep, by the way? Are we supposed to be in a farm?”
“Why are you so ungracious,” I snapped.
“You know why.”
Yes. He was thinking about our date nights back in Phuket, a world of difference from where we were, eating simple food from the shacks on the beach. Nothing costs more than £2, even if we had wandered into one of the more expensive restaurants. We would often show up barefoot, having run there from our house, just in time to catch the sunset.
“Life can’t get better than this, hey, Jac?” He would often comment contentedly when sitting on the beach in Phuket watching the sunset.
“OK, fine,” I huffed. “You choose the next venue then.”
To my surprise, our next date found us in North London, at Jivamukti (now known as Sangye). Twenty years ago, I trained here but have seldom been back as my yoga practice took a different path in the intervening years.
It was a lovely evening class (Vinyasa 2-3) that began with chanting mantra in Sanskrit. It went on for quite a while, and I slowly felt my spirit soaring. When the teacher instructed us to stand in warrior pose, close our eyes and wind our internal clocks mindfully, I became one with the soft music and hovering incense. The postures flowed effortlessly.
“I touched you,” my partner said as we left the studio. He had reached out, and his fingers found mine sometime during the 90 minutes.
It was a beautiful date night, and we left the studio, closer to each other than ever ❤
Photo from http://www.FreeLiz.com. It captures the spirit of Jivamukti perfectly.
More on Jivamukti, click here.
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