there went the weekend

On the subject of daily writing: I tried. Better luck next time, as the adage goes.

Folks of a professional bent often suggest that one finds one's passion and follow it in terms of creating a career. You'll be devoting so much of your time and energy to this career, you might as well love what you're doing. Such is the logic, yes? I have to admit I challenged that notion not long after starting to work in exchange for a wage. Yes, I love riding my bike, but won't I start hating it if I do it for a living? Same goes for making photos or working on bicycles or building bicycles. I resisted turning my passions into a paycheck because I wanted to enjoy my life and my hobbies (if you can call them that). Despite my resistance, somehow I managed to avoid falling into the "I hate my job" trap.

Right now I'm on a "teaching six mornings a week" tear. And I am the farthest thing from a morning person. I wake up so damned grumpy every morning, even when the sun streams into my room and I wake next to my fellow sleeping like an angel and our elderly dog snoring at our feet on the bed. I want to ease into my day at my own pace. Such a delightful privilege, no? It's one I had hoped to enjoy once I owned my own business.

Fat chance. I work more now than I ever did. I did expect to, in a way, though I wasn't starting from scratch with a brand new business. I knew it would take time to become solvent and experience a modicum of success. I didn't know that, even with a staff, I would pretty much be working alone. (That part's probably best left for another day, or maybe never.)

My own stresses disappear once my feet hit the podium when I teach. On the days I have to skip my own practice because the rest of my life creeps in, I can still get some peace of mind and quiet when I teach. I am lucky this way. I know this. My job doesn't feel like a job when I'm actually doing it.

That doesn't change the fact that I don't have a weekend. I have one day off from teaching a week. It does not coincide with either of my fellow's days off. Two years of this has made me tired. I don't know any other way to describe it. Again, I'm lucky that the fatigue melts away once I start working. The same thing happens when I practice... if I practice. Sometimes I just want to stay home and read in my yard. Or walk my dog. Or ride bikes through the orchards with my fellow. Because all of that means I AM NOT AT WORK.

And we haven't even hit summer yet, when my only reliable instructor disappears for two months.

If anyone could epitomize practicing yoga off the mat more than me, I'd like to meet that person. I sure could use some advice for making this work.