She was new to the studio, subbing for a class she’d never taught before.

I was attending my usual candlelight vinyasa class, part of my recent effort to develop healthier habits and transform my life. When she opened the door and was standing there as herself, not as the teacher I was expecting to see, I was startled, taken aback.

We now call it love at first sight.

At the time, I called it the sight of a beautiful woman with curly hair and a curvy figure. I wanted to talk to her more. She was nervous about the class, wrapped up in herself, a little distracted. I had nothing else to focus on, but her.

Her nervous energy completely disappeared as she led the class in breath of fire to open our practice. She was strong, a leader, fully in her power. I was infatuated.

I thanked her for the class with extra tenderness in my voice and said it was nice to meet her, hinting that I saw her as a person, not just as a teacher.

We didn’t see each other again for another six months, although I looked for her everywhere. I didn’t see her—she didn’t see me.

I deleted my online dating account, assured that the woman I loved was in the flesh and if I kept following the right path, it would inevitably intersect with hers. She opened an online dating account, maybe looking for me. I didn’t see her—she didn’t see me.

I visited the park across from my house everyday to walk my dog, sit in the grass and read a book or to meditate with the noises of the city surrounding me. She visited the same park, walking its circuit, talking on the phone, smelling the roses, feeling the sun.

We lived within two blocks of each other. I didn’t see her—she didn’t see me.

As we followed our separate paths, oh so close to each other, but always just slightly eluding the other, we became strong as individuals. We did the necessary work to love another.

We became true lovers of ourselves.

We both had work to do—old wounds to heal, trust to build, hearts to open—before we could truly see each other, here and now, in this very love.

People frequently talk about synchronicities drawing lovers together. But the universe isn’t hasty. It only draws those together who are ready for each other, who are in just the right place to share in just the right lessons.

Once two lovers come together, the daily synchronicity born of that union can make them feel grand, immense, eternal even, like the universe singularly speaks of the love they share and generously lends itself as a conduit for that love.

But remember, all  little synchronicity that supports a couple’s time together were made possible by the many that supported their time apart. The universe nurtures our love by allowing us to nurture ourselves first.

Now that we are together, my lover and I recall our desires for the perfect mate back when we first saw each other at the yoga studio: someone abundant in spirit, clear in heart, grounded in presence and open to fully experiencing another.

We delight in knowing that, at the time, we weren’t yet those people. We were undergoing our own personal transformations to get to a place where we could genuinely start trying to become those people.

And, it’s not that we suddenly and miraculously underwent those transformations to find ourselves here, now, perfectly open to and bonded in love.

But in this moment, many months later, we’re now courageous enough to work everyday to be so, together.

 

Relephant read:

Fate, Coincidence or Co-Intention? 

Author: Travis Weedon

Editor: Ashleigh Hitchcock

Photos: flickr