Informed Rituals

I should have known from the psychedelic colours in the gorse that a migraine was coming.  I haven’t had a migraine in years, so didn’t twig.  I wondered, half-jokingly, if that indigo trace-colour was a mini-stroke, it was so surreal.  (Deduced not, as I was able to repeat the effect, several times. Idiot). 

It’s my own fault.  I didn’t take any water on the ritual walk to the next village.  (Does three times qualify as a ritual?)  It was such a hot day.  Then, to add insult, instead of buying water at the village, I bought a coffee. 

“We must have rituals”. 

To discover “what it costs to be happy”. 

Back home, I took an anti-stroke aspirin (just in case), lay down on the bed, watching Green Man faces in the soft leaves of the distant trees.  But the splicing pain only pounded worse.  I thought about poor souls in chronic, terminal pain who can’t just take a tablet or two to get rid of it.  The old lady I met the day before, out walking using two sticks.  She said it was her back, terrible pain that she had to take pain killers for.  But there she was, out there shuffling along on her sticks in the sunshine.  “We must have exercise”. 

Terrible suffering everywhere and I’m rambling about a headache. 

Truthfully, I felt afraid.  Those wee small hours thoughts; old age, pain and alone forever.

Today, is a self-care day.  No yoga, no walking, no headache, maybe a bit of hoovering later, some micro-ranting at BT earlier, other than that, rest and rehydrate.

Absolutely no coffee.

It’s walled-garden yoga tomorrow.  A bit concerned I’ll put the ass in asanas, but looking forward to Vrikshasana amongst actual trees.  Even found my sports bra.

Forecast sunny. 

Water bottle?  

Already packed.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tree_pose