I'm so glad to be juicing again. I simply couldn't resist the lure of fresh juice any longer. Earlier this week, I moved my juicer from the pantry to my counter and put it back into service. I'm getting reacquainted with my favorite combinations. Romaine/apple/lemon/ginger and carrot/ginger/grapefruit/beet are just a couple that I love. (I got to
cry over spilled juice enjoy a little extra clean-up this morning, having knocked over my glass, spilling half of my carrot/ginger/grapefruit/beet juice over the counter. Such sadness, but mostly because I didn't feel like cleaning the juicer a second time to make more.)
I love juicing, but the thing that I'm feeling even better about is my new yoga practice. Yes, I'm practicing yoga. And it's more amazing than I ever imagined. I began back in January and since then, there's not been a single Saturday when I've not popped out of bed with the sun to shower, dress, and make it across town to class before 8 a.m. I know, kind of early for a Saturday, but it's worth every moment of sleep sacrificed to spend an hour on my mat with my instructor and classmates.
As we moved through the asanas, I considered what she had said, that in falling over, in going too far, I'd found the weeds. No mistakes, no worries, I'd just been exploring my limits, exploring the boundaries of balance. And isn't that what life calls us to do, to explore our limits, to see just how far we can go before we just fall over? And then to laugh about it afterwards?
I can't say that I won't be landing in the weeds again. I'm sure my practice will find me picking rye seed out of my hair again and again, but I hope it also finds me laughing, and getting back into position to see just how far I can go without falling over.