A different rhythm

Fast forward to the beginning of autumn. It’s still 2019, almost six years ago?? Gosh.

Well, Ireland is not the most charming place to be if you’re one of those sun-lovers. The people are lovely, but the sky? Stubbornly keeps the sun away. And yet, here I was.

And did I mention? I had actually moved for this man.

Before this, I was doing my Master’s in Hungary. Honestly? I don’t even know why. I guess when you are still in uni, you don’t have to figure out real life, you’re still trying to buy some time before becoming a capital letter ADULT.

But this? This felt like more of a direction. More reason to feel deeply. More reason to live deeply, because this is why we are here, to connect.

One day I was studying Regional Economics and the next Saturday morning, I was in Cork in a 9:30 am yoga class.

There we were: this Irish man and me.

The studio had a certain feeling. Inviting, but not fake. It carried knowledge, depth, and most importantly, integrity.

Somehow, in a way I hadn’t expected, they had managed to hold onto something real. They didn’t strip yoga down to make it trendy. There was still alternate nostril breathing, and there was still OM (without the cultural appropriation). It felt like yoga: without pretense, without performance. You could really feel the roots of this place were in India. Lalit, the founder, was actually from there.

And I just had… an amazing time.

And of course, the man next to me—this man I had followed to another country—was keeping things serious, but at the same time, not really. It was fun. It was easy. Life felt whole.

But only for a short while.

Because timing is everything. And ours… wasn’t right.

While he carried major, heavy responsibilities, I was just trying to find my footing—looking for my first 9-to-5 job that felt so far from my liberated soul. We were in the same space, but we weren’t moving in the same direction.

And yet, this yoga studio… it stayed with me for years to come.

(To be continued…)

November 2019, Ireland: Lots of hiking in magical places

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Endings and Beginnings

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From Morocco to the mat