I’m going to talk more about that bloody massage. A thousand apologies, but I can’t think of too many experiences to rival it. Hard to believe how getting rattled and rolled, bent and poked, can do anything, actually, but I’m convinced it has helped me immensely.
My breathing is better. Breathing properly helps with many things of course. Pranayama, the practice wherein one controls the breath, or vital life force, is an exquisite discipline. Even though I work at this, I had begun unconsciously gasping. I sigh a lot, and that’s fine. Gasping for air is not. Can’t stay well-grounded breathing like that.
My cravings are still at bay, too. Such a relief to eat warm stews of root vegetables with a hint of spice, good oils, and lots of colour. I’m so satisfied. Quite miraculous. It makes me think of my pregnant girl hoping she’s able to enjoy food, keep it down.
Speaking of my daughter, she’s a better woman than I am. She’s managed to keep working, plan things, and find the supports she needs. It’s such an emotional time, isn’t it? All of sudden, in a nanosecond, you are nurturing a life. A philosophy professor once said we human beings are less logical than we believe. His reason? No logical person would choose to have a child. He had three.
Is that true what the funny doctor said? Probably yes. Probably no. No matter, she’ll be a fantastic mom.
SO I must end. I’m very tired and there’s a bit of storm brewing. We’re getting the warmer version of the winter storm that hit the US eastern seaboard. My skylights are groaning. I will meditate the wildness away, then sleep.
My wish is that we remember to breathe in, and out, thankful for the oxygen as it bubbles into every cell of our being. In breath is life, the beginning and end of it. Life. All of it. Breathe in with gratitude and exhale any doubt. You are a glorious speck filled with the enormity of the universe.