Today was a yoga day--morning practice followed by discussion and study until mid-afternoon.
It was an excellent class, hard and sweaty--it's July in Utah after all--and the brainwork was engaging, funny, enjoyable.
Still, though, I feel restless now, agitated.
I had a fine day--after yoga school I took the dogs to the lake for an hour--they swam and fetched, I waded and threw. We were the only ones there (that never happens); I felt blessed--actually blessed--to have the clean, cold water to ourselves.
But there it is, the feeling that I've left something unfinished...
But maybe that's just bad programming....We're taught to work hard, taught that work is hard. We're told to put our heads down and plow forward, to not question what we're trading for a paycheck (time, health, youth, glow, passion, humor, love, spirit).
So I guess I feel guilty about not hating my work--guilty that I don't resent how I'm spending my time.
It's absurd. There is absolutely nothing wrong (again, I am so blessed), so I'm concocting an issue to fill the void.
It reminds me of one of my favorite poems, by William Napier:
The last log on the fire
Sends a momentary galaxy
Spiraling into the night.
Of course! Before all where or when,
Hunkered around that singularity,
(nothing but eternity's harmonica)
You had to stir the coals.
Light, delight...at least relief.
If we meet at all it's in these stars,
My awe and ignorance beneath a desert sky,
Your omniscience precluding mystery.
Let us talk of need, of who and what
We've made to fill the void.
As I've been typing and thinking, I've been listening to this mantra/song, which has helped me feel more relaxed.
I have to take a step away from all this and realize something: I took a risk in doing all this. I offered a scenario to the universe, and the universe said, "Ok, give it a try." So just as we have to let go when our offerings are turned away or rejected, so do we have to let go when they are accepted.
Attachment on either side of an experience is still attachment...let it go.