Books and Berries Over Boots

I’m one of those girls that dresses fairly well and current but hates going clothes shopping.  Any invite from my fashionable girlfriends is met with NO I hate it.  I usually regret the loss of money spent on my clothes and get annoyed at the amount of room they take up.  And yes they take up a lot of room.  One look at my bedroom and you would never believe this post.  I have shoes lined along the floor, dresses hanging from the walls and two closets full of “stuff” eek what a waste.  I’d much rather these closets by full of fairy tales and adventures.  This objection to shopping is not equal for all things though you see.   Invite me to a fresh food market, spice bizarre, winery or boutique bookshop and I’ll be happily lost for hours and spend all the money in my banana shaped purse. 

Nothing brings me greater pleasure then sitting down with a beautiful loose leaf tea and reading a book.  Or musing over my latest read with a glass of wine some cheese and a friend.  Both of which I would happily do naked. 

I feel more nourished and fulfilled from books and beautiful foods.  A trip to the markets leaves me elated and excited.  I can never wait to get home and pour over some cook books.  I love fresh food and being a vegetarian means my fridge and cupboards are full of fresh fruit and vegetables.  Nuts and good chocolate are a must and if there are no lemons in the house I go into a panic.  A dollar parted with for delectable food is a dollar well spent.

The same is said for books.  Being that I move every year and love to travel an eReader is most practical, but I need both.  The tangibility and smell of real books still wins over the chicness and convenience of a Kindle.  So I take it in turns, reading one novel on the eReader then a real book.  Each nourishing me more than any sale at Sass and Bide could.

I get that clothes can be beautiful and yes practical but I could never love them for as long or as much as I love stories.  Clothes you buy, love for a month or so then donate to a charity or friend.  I would never abandon a book like this (well not a good book).  The stories stay with me for life.  The experiences of the characters become my stories.  I go around in a daze for days, expecting to see gypsies flying carpets, and magic among the streets.  Listening for exotic languages, cries of murder and looking for detectives carrying snuff boxes.  Sometimes coming back to reality after being immersed in a fantastic world can be hard.  But that’s the amazing thing about books; you can visit them any time.  Be transformed into a lover, a man, a mother, a soldier, a pirate, a drug addict after just a few lines.  Visit any time period and country.  Feel sorrow and joy.

 

The memories and experiences from books can also be aroused by food.  Eating baklava brings back my memories of  the hot streets of Istanbul, a beautiful Sangiovese makes me think of my time spent in beautiful Florence and watermelon reminds me of my lovely childhood.  The smells, sights and tastes of food bring back cherished memories and create new ones.  Signature dishes and flavours become part of our personality, how delicious.  

Eating and drinking brings people together, it’s social and enjoyable.  Hunting for new hidden gems in the city you love or trying to attack a dish you have never cooked before are pleasures that should be indulged in daily.  It nourishes the body and soul.  The colours, smells, tastes, cities, worlds and characters of my vices treat me well.  I will never part with the loves like I would an old coat.

 I could write thousands of words about my love of food and books but I’d rather get back to One Hundred Years of Solitude and my punnet of blueberries.  So for now, all I shall say is I will always take books and berries over boots.

Touch My Yogi Fear

Yoga changes your life; I became stronger and more aware.  Breathing became a conscious thing and how far apart my toes could be spread was more important than the old t-shirt I adorned.  Yoga is not just about health, or being lean or flexible.  There are no guidelines of who can take part or who should stay away.  In yoga studios there are no mirrors or pumping beats, you are in a room full of people but alone on your mat.  It is hard to explain the feeling of calm that comes over you before you start your practice.  The breath slows but awareness heightens, and prepares you for a battle. A battle with your own mind that is about to commence. 

The battle is not to bend yourself in-half, that will come.  The battle is staying aware for the whole practice.  The trick is to not let your eye wander to your chipped toenail polish or the yogi with the perfect headstand in front of you.  It’s to not think about the day you just had or what groceries to buy later, training the mind is harder than training the body.  When your mind is focused your body can achieve great things, anything…almost.

Stretch, hold, release *crack*!  It was like the most exquisite yoga class combined with the most intense deep tissue massage.  I was on a table, the body that I tried to worship and treat like a temple had broken.  The body I indulged with yoga, walks, plenty of sleep, a vegetarian diet and sex had in an instant turned against me.  The nervous system was my downfall, a pinched nerve in the hip will bring down the most toned healthy body and it was horrendous.  The pain is outrageous and the posture destroying painless position I worked myself into was mortifying.  Drugs were not my answer; either was resting awkwardly in a bed for days.  I had to get proactive and find a natural health solution, one which would be effective but kind to my body.  I did not want to numb my pain I wanted to understand it; my answer was going to the Chiropractor.

On a warm table I was pushed, prodded rolled and cracked.  My limbs were realigned and massaged.  My sockets had the bones pulled out and pushed back in, I was just letting myself be arranged but it was a work out.  It didn't always feel great but I could feel my body easing into it.  It wanted to be straightened and put into place.  It was evident that the yoga I did in the evening wasn't undoing the damage I was doing in the day; my fabulous work heels, love of literally curling up with a book and outrageous/ jarring dance moves on were playing havoc with my joints.  My temple was not happy, and this made me unhappy.

I have a love for my body I accept and treasure it, but even the most aspiring yogi has a downfall.  My chiropractor told me that a pinched nerve especially in the hip area was likely to keep happening, all the strength work in the world wouldn’t combat a sudden slip or knock.  But he also had a beautiful way of viewing health.  He said to be healthy is to be normal.  Our body wants to be healthy and fit and happy, it shouldn’t be a distant goal but a constant sense of being.  Even if I feel sick, sneeze or vomit it’s a sign of my body readjusting itself.  It is working.  My chiropractor really understood to the roots of his practice.  He was inspired by Daniel David Palmer who created chiropractic care.  

“I desired to know why one person was ailing and his associate eating at the same table, working in the same shop was not. Why? What difference was there in the two persons that caused one to have pneumonia, catarrh, typhoid or rheumatism, while his partner, similarly situated, escaped? Why?”

This was a revelation, it’s better to focus on the person with the disease then focus on the disease that the person has. 

No pill would fix my hip, I needed a personal touch, someone to physically touch me, feel my body and tell me what was awry.  I only went to the chiropractor twice, after that my nerve problem felt eased and I was free to get back to yoga, love, walking my pup and everything else I value.  My body felt aligned and fresh, so did my soul, but I had a new awareness of how tough and fragile I was, that what gave me so much pleasure would also harbor pain.

I was back on my mat the next week but it was hard to still my mind, I felt a subtle ghost pain in my hip and I could feel myself holding back from some poses which usually I would dive into, fearless.   Yoga will help get my confidence back, as soon as a can quieten the battle in my mind and be free to stretch into myself.

Me in Thailand-Taken by the beautiful Polly

Is it ok if I call you?

The following questions made me the saddest I have felt all year.  "Can I have your number" followed by "Is it ok if I call you?".  I wasn't propositioned at a bar and there was no sleazy men.  It was my pop asking.  I couldn't believe it, he didn't want to bug me but just wanted to keep in touch.  This conversation broke my heart a little.  What had happened over the past few years that my poppy, a man who had known me before I knew myself, didn't think he could call me? 

Was it the rush of me moving from Canberra to Melbourne?  The somewhat surly teenage years? The portrayal of my generation?  Whatever it was I could not stand it.  I have never spoken to my grandparents everyday but I often hand write them letters and try to go to their major birthdays.  This day of sadness for example was on my pops 80th birthday.  But somewhere in between I had somehow lost my sense of approachability, by my family, the shame!  the sadness! the confusion...

I quickly assured this beautiful man that of course he could call me, write to me and come and stay with me.  And I could see the joy in his eyes.  This offer had always been clear to me but not him, I obviously had not been apparent in my affection and wanting to be close.  Since this day I have spoken to him every week, and made the effort to speak to my other grandparents and for that matter all family members, emailing aunties, having drinks with cousins, valuing my family.  But no matter what happens now, or how often I speak to my dear pop, I will never forget the look in his eye or the tone of his voice when he asked if he could call me, and because of this I'm going to call him right now...