Last night at work I looked up from my desk and noticed a lady rushing to get outside. She's a person that works in another department who is apparently addicted to smoking. At a rediculous pace, she made her way out the door with her hand clutching the cigarrettes inside her pocket. Nothing could have stopped this woman! Her body said, "Get the HELL out of my way! I have exactly 4.75 minutes left for this smoke break, and dammit, that's exactly what I plan to do!" The second her hand and her smokes emerged from her pocket, it only took three short, slow steps to light up.
Watching the nicotine slow her to a normal pace, I thought of the second grade when I could talk to NO ONE on the bumpy bus ride home because I had to pee so badly. Breaking my concentration or even uncrossing my purple legs (from lack of circulation) would result in a huge mess and much embarrassment. Nothing could have replaced the sense of relief I got from finally sitting on the toilet. aaaahhh.
Work, work, work, and then you can do what brings pleasure. That's the jist of growing up with my parents as followers of the Buddhist faith? Nope - the Heads of Work Ethic in the Schroeder household. Nowadays, I can justify my rewards for working all day and then spending nearly every waking moment working at home. No down-time between the hours of 6:45am and 11:30pm. Go, go, go until I reach the breaking-point of my own body saying, "If you do not stop right this second, you will spontaneously combust into either 1)freak-crying mode, 2)involuntary spasms of some sort, or 3)an overwhelming need to become a minimalist and sleep on a rice mat for the rest of your life."
Instead, I have learned to listen to my body and reward myself with a huge bowl of ice cream. Slowly scoop perfect little round balls of ice cream into the bowl and let it melt just a little. Sit on the couch with the snoring dogs below, and enjoy every single bite. This, to me, is nirvana.