Let's Play: The Joy Diet - Week Eight

The supreme accomplishment is to blur the line between work and play.
(Arnold J. Toynbee)

I can't confidently say that I mastered the art of play this week. As we have worked through Martha Beck's The Joy Diet, I have experienced varying levels of comfort with each menu item.

This week I read ahead of the class and was prepared to play with the zeal of a child, but somehow managed to ignore the menu item throughout the week.

In my last post, I revealed my goals for November and mentioned I have struggled to make it to yoga class. Lauren admitted she has been facing the same challenge, even though we both call ourselves yoginis.

The big question that comes to mind is, "why do I avoid the things I know are good for me?" If I am brutally honest with myself…

I prefer the feeling I get from eating a healthy home-cooked meal than I do from driving through McDonald's.

I have an after-yoga-glow that is exquisite when compared to the way I feel after spending a few sluggish hours on my couch.

I take comfort in solving my internal questions through journal writing rather than ignoring things and complaining to those around me.

So then I wonder, why am I not doing the things that make me feel best?

Maybe there isn't a good reason, or maybe the reason isn't the issue at hand. Whatever the cause, if I decide to play the game like Beck describes, I will lean towards living my best life—treating myself to a healthy blend of home-cooked meals, yoga and journaling.

I agree with her that at the end of our lives, or in the face of a tragedy, we are pulled to what is most important to us. We stop avoiding the things that make us whole and get back to the basics. We uncover the dusty novel, the wrinkled yoga mat or the rusty sewing machine. We take comfort in whatever brings us the most joy.

I struggled to define what Beck calls our “real career” because I'm unsure of my answers. I don’t know what legacy I want to leave, and I don’t know what experiences I need to have a completely satisfying life.

Her questions make me feel the same way I imagine it would feel to drive through the neighborhood I lived in until I was 9—comfortable, but disarmed. I don't exactly know where my house is, but I will know it when I see it.

So for now I am going to continue to drive through the neighborhood, explore my creative side, connect with all you amazing women and stay dedicated to the things that make me happy. I will continue to search for my house—because I am sure that I will know my real career, my true calling, when I see it.