Last weekend I visited my mum. She had just turned 69 and we wanted to celebrate. She looks brilliant. Glowing face, happy smile, softly coloured hair highlighting the healthy tan she gets from her regular time in the garden. Yet, she also told me something that scared the heck out of me.Continue reading “Choice Points”
The other day was graduation day. I graduated from thirty days of juicing. Proper. I’d started building this habit about a month ago, using a different approach than normal. Instead of forcing change onto myself, too much of it at once usually, I took a more incremental, more gentle approach. And it worked.
I went to a lecture yesterday on the wrongness of today’s mainstream way of life. I’m not a big fan of labeling things as right or wrong, but I was attracted enough by the underlying message that we could divert from the norm. In the end the talk turned out to be somewhat disappointing. There were some interesting ideas but too much politician bashing for my liking. I left with the sense that the most important thing remained unsaid: That things CAN change. If only we start with ourselves.
If you are a perfectionist and have attempted taking up yoga, you might have run into a road block just like I have. My original idea was, of course, to learn how to let go, how to just be in the present moment, to accept reality exactly as it is. That’s what perfectionists need to learn and what yoga promises (besides the perfect body). This is until you find out that perfectionism is also precisely what stands in the way of escaping from perfectionism through yoga.
I never had a green thumb. In fact, I never had a garden. Just houseplants. And few of them, for that matter. The maximum number of plants I ever managed to keep alive for more than a face-saving period of time, until recently, was five: a banana tree, a schefflera, a basil plant, a ficus and an orange tree, god bless them. Until last year that was.