I ran out of fresh socks a few days ago, and I am down to my last pair of favorite yoga pants. I haven't seen my comfy jeans for a while either, so it's probably time. Time for laundry. Again.

It's such a hassle to lug everything down a few flights, make sure I have enough quarters to wash and dry both loads, all the while hoping no one else beat me to the only machine in the building. Return in 32 minutes. 44 minutes. Repeat.

Satisfaction: I put away the last pair of neatly folded socks into their drawer. The basket is empty, and I have so many choices of colors and sizes and shapes for all my clothes. Tomorrow morning will be the peak of my laundry cycle mood---sheer contentment. Santosha.

The problem is that I have already noticed a towel in the bathroom I forgot to include, a jacket by the door that did not make it into this round, AND I am wearing a pair of socks at this very moment, slowly dirtying them with each step. They'll be definitely dirty by this evening, and I will have to add them into the empty basket, a melancholy reminder of the beginning of another cycle.

Which reminds me of something. It seems like I do this in other areas of my life as well. I work and work to get to a certain point, achieve happiness or some other vague goal, and I promptly enjoy it for a few moments before I realize that I did not cross a finish line in a linear race--I am simply running in circles.

I know we as yogis all know this, but my dirty socks remind me that there is no happily-ever-after and to enjoy every part of the cycle, wherever I am. Full basket or full drawer.

 

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