Anyone who regularly reads “Yoga with Eve Grzybowski” will know that I speak glowingly about my life in the beautiful surroundings of Mitchells Island.You can also read the story of the small, intentional community we’ve set up here.) Usually I’m a pretty positive and happy person, I think, in the midst of our island paradise. But last night I sorely tested myself and the merits of all my wonderful yoga philosophy when I was at a cocktail party (yes, alcohol does pass my lips) and spoke my mind, revealing a provocative personal opinion. I didn’t get a good response, or not the one I wanted, and my mind and mood went into an accelerated, aggravated tailspin. I had a devil of a time getting myself out of the hole I’d dug, but my social graces are so ingrained that I managed to muster the necessary veneer of friendliness, so that I could see out the evening. Once home, I dropped down into a miserable state again, feeling ashamed for having been outspoken and at the same time justified in my stance, however poorly expressed. I tried on blaming my husband; he’s too smart for that, though. So, I stewed in my woeful juices for a while until I started to take responsibility for my thoughts and actions. This is good yoga practice, I believe. Gosh, it’s hard! Not blaming the other, and not blaming yourself. And yet, it’s so very powerful the way personal responsibility can open up insights and let one claim the less desirable parts of the psyche and personality. I made it through this crisis by shining a light into some shadowy places and by opening up to the loving support of Rick, Heather and Daniel. Namaste.