The morning after a houseparty
Here's what was great:
Lesley and I made caramel corn. An adaptation of the recipe in The Joy of Vegan Baking, but without the corn syrup (bleh, that stuff ain't good - this article doesn't say much, but it's clear that that sugary liquid isn't health-supporting in anyway), and with more nuts. And people went nuts for it. Including me, right from the time it came out of the oven, say maybe 8:30pm, until almost 3am.
Dominika set up a killer music playlist using Groove Shark, which I know nothing about myself, but she highly recommends it.
I made some delicious mulled apple cider, which people had the option to spike with rum or not. I only spiked one of my many mugfuls with hooch as I'm on call for a birth right now. (It is weird watching people around you get slightly plastered when you're totally unintoxicated.)
Here's what I know about myself and night-time parties though: I have been middle-aged ever since I stopped being a teenager. If I go to bed past midnight I am most likely a bit of a basket case the next day.
I did my best to get to a yoga class this morning, but the gods seemed to be working against me. I got up, agonized over whether to go to the class on so little sleep, finally decided to and got my stuff together in 10 minutes, only to find that I didn't have the keys to drive the car to the class that is 20-30 minutes away, plus a stop I'd need to make to pick up my yoga shorts and mat at my mum's place. Ryan had borrowed my car yesterday and forgot to return the keys to me (my only one - he's lost the other 3). He kindly biked up to my place with the keys as quick as he could but I just didn't have the time needed to wait for him to spare. So getting to the class didn't happen.
I drove to the beach instead, and stood on the sand looking at the grey and cold-looking water, the waves powerfully rolling up onto shore, and then remembered my day of school work ahead of me. I reflected, as I watched the sun shining through the clouds, on how much I've been complaining about everything that's on my plate right now, and how much that goes against my belief that we should be constantly seeking out joy and letting go of the things that pull us away from joy.
And then I had what might generally be understood as an "ah-ha moment". I realized that it's not that I'm unwilling to work hard, it's that I'm unwilling to sacrifice my feelings of mental stability, and my interest in being with and helping others. I'm not sure how this search for balance will work out, but I think it's a new and better start.
Maybe you can relate this feeling of resistance shifting to willingness in your life? I'm interested to hear about it.