Cheer-leading

My cheerleading lover
My cheerleading lover

So, my lover is my biggest cheer-leader.

It’s such a gift to have someone cheering on your team. And for as long as I can remember, my lover has been cheering on mine. He told me I could study harder and I duxed. He told me that I could leave and I flew far. He said one more push and there was a child. And then 2 more. He said our family needed one more move –

and in 3 weeks there will be our forever home.

He has had my back for as long as I’ve been facing forward and it is his enthusiasm and his strength that encourages a cautious creature like me to dare in dreaming big. But last night, I didn’t want to be cheer-leaded. Because there’s a fair bit going on when your 3 weeks out of your forever home. Especially when the said home has the studio space you’ve dared to dream about for 20 years. From which you’re going to be a world renowned yoga teacher who is annually published on the top seller list and stars on her own you-tube channel.

At least that is what my ever-enthusiastic, cheer-leading partner has aspirations for. Where sometimes for me, I wonder if I’m cut out to help a few punters discover their toes.

Last night, we were sitting around a friend’s dinner table sharing a feast made with love. Her house is full of inspiration and celebration. We were buoyed with winter sunshine and hope. In time, my lover turned his ideas and the room onto me. I sat and squirmed – focussed in the bright headlights of potential and of what could be. There was much pumping of my tyres and promises of apparent things that could come. I tried to deflect the accolades of his ideologies while making excuses for my unachieved goals. I reminded my love that dreams need time and ideas need hard work to make them real. I told him I already worked 20 hours of physiotherapy a week. My friend reminded him there was another 3 hours was in travel. I added there are already 7 weekly classes, meaning 14 hours more work. I’m running a solo business, studying a post-grad cert and am family taxi driver for everyone in our home under 18.

Meaning everyone.

But still the cheer leading went on. Despite the sound of my words and the tone of my voice. Pleading with him to stop with the promise of big ideas. Begging him to stop telling the world what amazing things I could do. Until eventually I could tell he couldn’t hear me. And that the time had passed for words. So I smashed both my hands hard on the dinner table and made everything crash.

And in doing so in that moment, I made him stop.

Think throat openers, standing strength and foraearm balance.

There are a multitude of variants that influence how we can communicate with each other. And it is thought to be that only 10% of our speech is actually understood and heard. Another 30% is expressed simply by the tone in which we speak. Leaving 60% of what we want to say to be played out by our bodies. Without the need for any type sentence structure. Without any type of word.

I had used my sentences to explain why dreams are hard to follow. And my friend had added her tone to explain why sometimes time was hard to find. But it wasn’t until I used my body to make a big sound – in fact to shake the whole inside of the room – that my lover stopped cheer-leading for just a moment. So that he could understand that a big dream sometimes needs a little ground. And that my ground was covered in tile choices, fridge dimensions and where I should buy 10 external light fittings. I was asking for a bit of a break. My body was asking him for idea respite. I needed to find my ground and get stuff sorted before I could be courageous and jump off with him again.

And so he listened.
With his head and his heart.
And finally heard me through my body – at just the right time.

This morning, I was up at dawn and by 8:00 was up to me elbows in sugar-soaped walls and lemon essenced windows. He watched me begin the countdown of the next 3 weeks and the leaving of our gorgeous little rental home. He knows that I will grieve the loss of our family’s small shared spaces. He knows I’m so scared of the dream that I never thought I could have. He knows me so intimately and completely and now he’s started to share my language. He told me the windows looked great and then he stood firm and kissed me.

Which told me he was cheer-leading me where I’m at and where I could be.

All over again.

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