I often feel a bit sheepish admitting that my daily yoga and meditation practice isn’t about being virtuous or spiritual. Let me share a little about my experience.
This past Monday started off surprisingly well. I woke up to a steaming cup of coffee, courtesy of my partner. We settled into his cozy living room to tackle emails together. While I was in the middle of sharing an amusing anecdote, he gently reminded me to focus on work, a gesture I appreciated. After all, who doesn’t love someone with boundaries?
I finally wrapped up the second half of an essay I felt decent about. The sun was shining, but rain was on the horizon—good news for California’s drought. If you’re reading this from elsewhere, you might not care much, but it’s worth noting that this drought could impact food production in the future. So, for today at least, the drought felt manageable, which was a relief.
I don’t dread Mondays; in fact, I enjoy being busy. Although I sometimes fantasize about doing something else, I genuinely find happiness in my work—just in moderation. For me, five hours of writing feels just right. It allows for reading, people-watching, and laughing with friends—essential for gathering material for future jokes. Interestingly, that realization contributed to my divorce; I discovered I didn’t have the time to be with someone whose humor didn’t resonate with me.
However, my initially pleasant Monday took a nosedive when I ventured out to grab some toast and ordered what turned out to be one of the worst cappuccinos I’ve ever had. It was an utterly shocking experience, given my history of enjoying great coffee. I couldn’t even send it back; I’d have had to muster the words, “Did you just stumble in and start brewing coffee?”
It’s frustrating when our trivial frustrations lead to uncharacteristic actions. In a fit of annoyance, I used a jam-covered spoon to shove a crumpled napkin into my cup, creating what could only be described as a cappuccino crime scene. When the barista asked if I was finished, I replied, “Oh yes, I’m DONE,” forcing a faux-cheerful smile that only hinted at my irritation.
Afterward, I made my way to the office I share with a couple of colleagues and a lovable black Labrador. On some days, the dog’s soulful eyes are a comforting presence, while on others, his playful antics make me question his existence.
I attempted to draft a pitch to an editor who, while perhaps not smarter than me, certainly had a more organized approach that intimidated me. Though the pitch wasn’t overly complex, my thoughts felt jumbled. I tried to jot down facts, hoping they’d transform into something meaningful, but they lacked personality. I pondered just sending what I had to get a rejection and feel a sense of accomplishment.
Throughout my unproductive writing session, I kept thinking about how I planned to go to yoga later. However, the thought of skipping it to cling to the hope of a creative breakthrough loomed large. Sure, sometimes forgoing yoga and meditation for work is the right choice, but if you choose that path, be prepared to face the consequences—like realizing it’s already 7 PM, and you’ve achieved nothing, all while missing a valuable opportunity to recharge.
After three long hours of subpar writing, I found myself craving a hamburger. So, I indulged.
When I returned to the office, I shot a dirty look at the black Lab and exclaimed, “That toy is disgusting.” The owner, sensing my annoyance, ushered him into the hallway, which was a relief, though I could still hear the distracting sounds of play.
I sat down to write again, knowing I had to push through the frustration. The cycle of writing poorly and then trying again can feel humbling or egotistical—it’s as if I’m saying, “Any moment now, my brilliance will arrive!” I waited for that spark during the post-lunch slump, which often turns into more mindless snacking.
By late afternoon, I was in a terrible mood. The thought of spending another hour in the office, followed by yoga surrounded by others, felt suffocating. I craved freedom—freedom to vent to friends or drown my sorrows in a drink, which, albeit temporary, rarely leads to anything but feeling worse afterward.
But the fear of wasting time pushed me to go to yoga. I paid my $16, rolled out my mat in the corner, and settled in for another hour and a half. The class was filled with familiar faces, all seemingly blissful, which only fueled my annoyance.
The instructor gave his usual pep talk about embracing life, and while I appreciated his intentions, I found myself rolling my eyes. Despite my disinterest, I went through the motions of the class, even as I felt more frustrated than ever.
The meditation segment, which typically lasts around 10 minutes, felt prolonged to 20. I spent half the time mentally calculating my expenses and the other half worrying about whether I’d left my iPad on my car. In between, I fumed about the new iPad model that had just been released—why now?
After class, my friend Sarah was all enthusiasm, exclaiming, “Wasn’t that incredible?” I shrugged, “Not really,” and drove home feeling defeated.
At home, I whipped up some fried eggs and toast, finally indulging in that bath I had longed for earlier. I slipped into the warm water, and, without my anticipated vodka, I let the tears flow. I cried for a while, grappling with the fact that I often feel like I need to dislike everything before I can appreciate anything. But then, I couldn’t help but laugh at my own absurdity. How lucky I was to have a clean, warm bath to retreat to after a chaotic day!
The next morning, I found myself experiencing a similar day all over again. At least I had figured out who made a good cappuccino and would be sure to order from her in the future. It’s funny how sometimes the practical aspects of life can pave the way for a clearer mind.
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Summary
In this reflection, I share the ups and downs of my daily routine filled with writing, coffee mishaps, and the struggle to maintain a positive outlook amid frustrations. Yoga and meditation serve as vital practices in my life, even when I don’t feel like participating. Ultimately, it’s about appreciating the little things and finding joy in the ordinary.