I look and feel better whenever I make my own lunch. True story. Found a go to green that I dig. Enjoy!
fresh lemon juice
Spending more time in the water. Less on land. No frivolous talk of plans. Just swimming.
Fave lil’ preworkout swim snack. Small bag of sea salt popcorn and a super short hazelnut latte with coconut milk.
I don’t rely on the caffeine to push my workout. I drink decafeinnated tea seven days a week. The occasional latte is a nice way to warm up for these chilly LA night swims. I usually consume eighty ounces of water throughout my work day. So by the time I hit the pool later I’m pretty hydrated. Thinning out any heart rushing effects compliments of Starbucks.
I work inside all day. So it’s especially nice when I can pop out for some food and fresh air. Erewhon was in my sights. Decided to make the trek.
Light appetite. On the menu. Mock tuna. Brown rice crackers with a black sesame twist. A bottle of electrolytes. And a lovely lime tart. Plantbased baby! All day. Errrrrr…day.
As of late yoga playlists seem to have taken on a purple persuasion. It’s strange. Weeks before your passing I was listening to you on a daily. And now you’re gone.
I hate the celebrity tributes and calculated wording by publicists representing those who never represented you. I hate the coolness of others as they try to hip folk to that which is optimistic when really it’s just another post about themselves.
I weeped in class the other day because I’m still not ready to share my loss with strangers. Not in that moment. Not in that setting. Yoga didn’t help that day. Nor did I bend hope or expectation in an upward direction silently wishing for your return. I looked up anyway. You were not there.
So I carry you with me. Forever in my heart. No matter how heavy the vibe gets. I love you Prince…
Yoga is hard enough. Shit like this makes it even harder. No amount of focused breathing or meditative state can free up the vibe when there are constant disruptions.
- Music is too loud. Hey! guru I’m talking to you. I can’t hear you.
- Body odor. Yogis, wash your ass before coming to class.
- Dirty feet. It’s no treat especially when our mats meet.
- Fragrance is no romance. Ya’ killin’me loudly with da’ patchouli Julie.
- Circus freaks. Acrobats who ain’t in the know and go opposite of the flow.
- Boot camp troupe. Counting down. 1..2…3…Wait! Is this a gym class?
- Monotone zone. Guru, descend from your throne. Falling asleep over here. I am not alone.
- Yogi chatter. Way too much of it. And y’all hella loud. Respect the space upon entering and leaving. Quietly.
I could go on. But it’s 5:37 in the a.m. Need a few hours of sleep before reaching for my next steep.
I will say this. My reluctance to join a yoga studio has not only been because of the exorbitant monthly fees. A greater portion of it is because yoga studios have incorporated so much fitness that it attracts that gym class competitive attitude amongst their clients. No bueno.
It shows a lack of respect and regard for the practice. And it’s annoying as funk. I like when I walk into a studio and I read signs that encourage people to disconnect from the outside once they come inside. But it’s not very often. I’ll let that one sink in. No trend.
Reading more. Talking less. Juice in between. Life scenes.
I’m always moving. Even in my sleep. This funky lil’ green through summer I shall keep. Love my life!
whole frickin’ apple
huge handful of spinach
went with ginger today instead of turmeric