This will be my third year going on a yoga retreat on Maui in March, and one of the things I like best about returning to the same place year after year is that it makes it easier to see how I've changed over the course of the year.
The first retreat came during the first few months of splitting up with my husband, and I ended up largely using the time to grieve, falling apart in a way that I couldn't do at home in front of my kids.
For the second one, I was basically firmly rooted in my yeah-I'm-divorced-and-in-my-sexual-prime phase, so I capped off the trip with a twentysomething windsurfer my friends nicknamed Jesus (uncanny resemblance, isn't it?)
This year, I'll be heading to a beautiful island with lots of beautiful men once again, but my heart will likely spend its time split between Madison, where my kids will be, and New Hampshire, where my boyfriend lives.
He and I talked about what might happen if I see Jesus again while I'm there, which both brought up this song and turned into an interesting conversation about jealousy, that primitive emotion that does not respond well to rational thought. I get the jealousy thing because I went through it big time when he hooked up with an old girlfriend earlier on in our relationship (we'd decided that it wasn't fair to put an exclusivity clause into a long distance relationship).
I don't know whether my windsurfer will have gone back to Eastern Europe by now, but I do know this: as exciting and lovely as the hook-up with the Jesus look-alike was, the love I've got going now makes a far more compelling religious experience.
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