Woke up to a spectacular morning; cloudless, mild and still. It would be an Indian Summer, or maybe an Aboriginal Summer, if we weren't so far into winter already. Expected after the rain we had we'd get the customary cold Antarctic blast.
Have decided on a different course with Jack because he is so reluctant to take treats. He does take them but it takes him a long time to decide. Occasionally he will eat a few in succession with some enthusiasm but usually it is a long process where he stares at me, often with head lowered, while deciding, it seems, whether he will launch himself at my face or just take the treat. Now I am still offering the treat but instead of immediately offering another, I say 'Good boy!' and leave the aviary. So the reward is that he is rid of my presence at the same time as he gets a yummy snack. We'll see how it goes. I have also started him on pellets today. Not happy! He did eat a few but he talked and murmured and squawked, letting us know that he wasn't pleased with breakfast. At 3pm I'll put in seed. With the exception of one bird (another cockatoo) this method has worked in introducing seed addicted birds to pellets.
Did yoga for 50 minutes today. R had gone in for a haircut so had plenty of time to finish housework and still get in some mat time. Always makes the day better.
Woke up at 2am with a splitting headache (damn menopause). Took two aspros and went back to bed. Concentrated on the pain and after a while it wasn't pain so much as a sensation. I don't know how successful I'd be in coping with chronic pain as I'm so dismal at coping with any sort of physical discomfort, a real Princess and the Pea kind of oversensitivity, yet it was an interesting phenomenon nevertheless.
Babaji has been a sort of prayerful adjunct to my life of late. He was a yogi in India, a character in Autobiography of a Yoga that I'm reading. For some reason, more than the other saints in the book, he made an impression on me. I called upon his aid when Jack was so ill. Jack became better. I suppose it's another version of calling on Mother Mary or St. Francis or Gaia - not IT but a human face of IT. At odd moments I remember and am thankful for the now; for the gifts of a bed to sleep in, the air I breathe, my feet which carry me so well, odd moments and odd things, whatever comes to mind at that moment, in that moment. The purity and innocence of birds, the greenness of green, my husband, food. Yoga has everything to do with this. When I did drugs all those years ago while I lived high and loud in one sense, in another I think I was on a more spiritual wavelength and not so caught up in the illusion and minutiae of life. Part of the attraction of drugs but also the judgment of drugs for when you do them you get a glimpse and then become blind because of the drug culture/dependency. At any rate, perhaps another reason is that creativity and questing is all a part of the twenties. We get comfortable in the 30's and positively staid in the 40's. Perhaps the 50's can be the start of a childhood reversion.
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