I picked my nose the other day. Fully expecting one of those booger removing, relaxing, nostril de-clogging relieving moments I could wax poetic about instead I met my first bloody nose in over two years at least.
Now I'm congested, I could blame it on the moody, capricious heat but I know I shouldn't have stuck a finger up my nose. My only relief today was a near liter of strawberry green tea from my favorite baby ann with some dark tropical honey. The honey here is so of the best I've tried.
Today, I finally got to catch a vegetarian meal at the Sikh temple. Ilonngas cooking Dal and Basmati Rice, Indian guys speaking Ilonggo...what a great convergence. They put ghee in the Chapati here. What I have noticed though is how tired I get after a cooked Indian meal. It's so strange. Hearing near perfect Ilonggo coming out of an Indian guys mouth is a glorious WTF moment. One of the cooks introduced herself to me as Evelyn Singh, a Filipina widow once married to a Mr. Singh. The friendliness and generosity of the human spirit still amazes me. It still remains that you should trust no one but when great people give you reasons to love humanity, how can you resist.
I ended up engaging in a dancesport bootcamp yesterday. Even after a full body massage, my soleus is screaming and a tightness and pain dancing through my hamstrings, leaving my latissimus dorsi on fire and finishing of with near choking pain in my neck.
In yoga, we talk about the stupid things we do in an effort to exercise, nearly commit massacre to the body and jamming ourselves into strange positions, painful contortions. Where's the balance though. Where can you meet not enough effort and too much. Both are rendered useless, that balance is required. In yoga as in relationships, we need to be kind to ourselves, listen to what our bodies are telling us and make love to our oldest lover - ourselves.
Planning a trip to Indonesia in July, if you've found this and you are free. Contact me!
Dance and green juice tomorrow. I'm so excited for vegetables.
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