Honest

 My goodness.  Time flies when you’re having fun.

Fun being: maybe the most theatrically-perfect fire pit this side of The Goonies, some extra pep in your step courtesy of another classic circa 1985, earlier cameo appearances by the next generation and a dental professional, spring in the air and a cliff no one fell off of, not a single drop of rain all evening long from start to finish, and what a ride up and down, but mostly, the opportunity for actual in the flesh humanity talking shit and real talk my bruddah; no wonder it went from 10:30PM to 3:00 in the morning before you even noticed; wow.

One of the five yamas, the moral precepts in Patanjali’s Yoga Sutra pertaining to our interactions with others (and, by extension, our selves) is aparigraha, which, roughly translated, means something like “non-graspingness;” the practice teaches us to regulate our desires—sort of like the virtue of temperance in Aristotle’s virtue ethics—and, as Pattabhi Jois writes in Yoga Mala, “not desiring things of enjoyment which are superfluous to the physical body.”

Yes, of course, but as the Angry Hippy is fond of saying, “everything in moderation, including moderation.”  If you can’t go overboard from time to time, stay up way past your bedtime, and even—sorry—forget to check in as usual at midnight, then how can you really tell what’s on board?  

It’s smart not to fall over the cliff, but standing near the edge lets you see where it is all that much better.

And maybe it was something in the air, too; my dog, I learned, got up on the table and ate an entire block of cheese right around the same time, so perhaps we can chalk it up to the heavens (or earth).

All I know is that whatever remorse we might feel over our past self’s behavior is mitigated by our current self's vicarious enjoyment of such enjoyment--honest, for real.