Yoga and Food

I am tired of blabbering on about governmental mess-ups and systemic shenanigans. I love complaining about that stuff but sheesh, I could neverendingly whingefest when I do and I am TIRED of hearing myself whinge, bloggers. TIRED. I think I shall declare a two week government-free zone on Discombobula and give the old girl a bit of a clean-out.

I do regularly think perhaps I should break this blog up into seven, so that the people who like reading mystical ponderings about looking up God's nostrils don't have to read about my whingeings about the system, or about my personal life. It all feels so ridiculously divergent, muddled up together in one blog. But then, I s'pose that's why this blog is called Discombobula :)

I just did a yoga session on my lounge room floor mat and Lester was very well behaved this time. He just sat on the couch and did not interfere while I plonked myself in different positions and did a clunky shoulder stand. The elephantine descent on the way down has contributed to the slight niggle in my lower back. However, I guess it's balanced out by the fact that all the other niggles have been ironed out. I really like doing yoga. Been reading a bit about weight loss being much more about weights and yoga than 700 k's on the treadmill or pounding the footpath, which suits me. I LOVE doing weights, used to really look forward to that when I was going to the gym. The treadmill not so much. The stairclimber thing - that thing was hell. I'd rather get my cardio out walking the dog in nature, not walking inside in some sweaty gym somewhere. But the weights - yeah, bring 'em on.

I've also been trying to get myself off to the sauna over the past several weeks. Perhaps this weekend. They are great for detox, used to make me feel wonderful. Isn't it funny how certain words have indelible images that come carved into them as they come into your mind? Every time I think the word sauna there he springs up into my mind again, the vision of the last sauna I had several years ago at the Footscray pools. The man was so dark-skinned that each individual droplet of sweat stood out along his arms and legs ... :)

I just ate a bowl of the Russian borscht I cooked last night. It sounds disgusting with its beetroot, potato and cabbage but it tastes so very YUMMY. I am considering doing a liver cleanse in several weeks with my friend Jane which involves four days of eating nothing but lettuce, cashews, bananas, carrots, celery, beetroot, eggs, and two other items that escape my attention but do little to add to the palatability of the prospect of those four days. How deadly dully dreary. Still, could be a good thing to get my liver feeling good about itself again so I can drink more than two glasses of wine or bourbon without going, "Ach!"and keeling over :)

I am feeling content and hopeful this evening. It is so nice to feel reasonable again after a week of feeling vaguely poisoned, toxic, and headachey. I feel hopeful about the world, too, despite the amount of whingeing I do about it here (cos after all, there's a bloody lot to complain about). Despite everything, I cannot shake the deep impaled feeling that all shall be well and all manner of things shall be well. Even while I consider chid prostitution in India and 27,000 children dying of preventable diseases every day around the world. In fact, I think becasue I do think all shall be well I can think about those things, even while it feels like some days it all could break my heart off in chunks like ice. The hope. It keeps me doing tiny small little things that only make droplets of difference. A few bucks here, prayers there. Maybe one day something more, possibly not. Who is to know? But the hope. It's like a nugget of dark chocolate in the middle of a landmine, you know? The hope that justice will one day flow like a river. I'd even give up chocolate for that.