"The only joy is the joy of duty"

This quote, from one of my very favorite movies of all time, was ringing in my head when I woke up this morning. Very early, as usual. Never mind that it's a quote in the service of the most evil of interplanetary dictators! [If you haven't seen this movie, and you have any interest in John Lithgow doing a really funny Mussolini takeoff, consider renting it.]

As I started my yoga routine -- I'm trying to do that on my days I'm not running -- I wondered why it had even occurred to me. First I remembered the ugly meltdown that Thing 3 had last night, after a few others during the day. I'll have to deal with that again today, even if it's just the consequences for that behavior. Then Thing 4 got up and demanded that I stop my morning routine and I remembered. It's hard to fit in activities that aren't pushed by necessity right now. Either it's the kids, or the job, or the house, or the millions of quotidian details that support those things.

And what that looks like on the ground is a fallow garden, but paid off credit cards. No knitting for days, and my spinning wheel is wondering who I am.

I know some people can fetch wood and carry water during even the most harried lives, but I'm finding it hard to make my joy. Oddly enough, something that looks like "duty" seems to be one way in. Running frees me up inside in good ways, and leads me to gratitude for the body that can run. And just knowing that joy -- and duty -- are both important to me can be a good guide.

I can't meditate, and this post by Crazy Aunt Purl pretty much sums up my problems with it. But I can run, and I can make choices, and I can look for joy in any interstice of duty I can find.

And maybe, if I keep doing that, the joy will be in everything.