Guilt Assault of the dirty microwave

How often do you resist the experiences that feel good to your body?
I was laying in bed this morning, sipping on Costa Rican coffee and wiggling my toes in the bed blanker while spooning up a chapter from my latest infatuating read. Heaven! Peace!
And then WHAM!
I got out of bed to warm up my coffee and noticed crap in my microwave. Deflation! Dirt! Bleach to the rescue! Must sanitize it! NOW! Deflation…REGRET. The thought was somehow that instead of sinking into the experience of pleasure, I should be doing something more productive. I had to sanitize my laziness and redeem it somehow.
For me, at times my body feels intolerable of my spirit, as if one were completely distinct from the other. The body and spirit feels as if they operate as rivilary teams—only one side can win at a time, and no matter what authority figures have told you, it is NOT about how you play the game. And yet, my moments of most aliveness are when the body and spirit raise white flags, call a truce, and decide to marry, even if for a brief, succulent twenty minutes. While I can sometimes articulate the triggers to this alignment, it cannot be manufactured or artificially designed.
What I do know is that at the moment when my body feels pleasurable, fear is present. It is hard to confess, but I feel as if I must point that out to myself, acknowlede and be mindful of that emotion of worry, anxiety, alarm. Dread accompanies the union as an inherited dowry of the union, because, as the pleasure swells, both appetites are momentarily appeased. First, initial release and exhiliration…quickly followed by guilt, the OH! Of expected dissapointment that the moment will soon pass. I often will then limit the experience of pleasure to be in control of its disminishment or to prevent getting overtaking by the allure of it and losing all sanity together. Silliness, I know…but the true fear is that the pleasure will transform me into a bed of impulses inducing unmanageable promiscuity, an unfaithfulness.
Yet true appeasement does not have to leave a mark of regret. Does it?
With a sparkling clean microwave you’d think that I’d be able to return to reading. But I couldn’t. The moment had passed…and so I turned to writing, the neutral zone of the warfaring fields. How often do you resist the experiences that feel good to your body?
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