00:26 - 21.03.06
balance grasshopper
Ooooooooo. When I woke up this morning. Remember dear diary, I had said last night that the tale would be told about the toll the yoga routine would take on me this morning/moaning. Yes well. It wasn't that I was sore exactly. I could feel the tightness in all the muscles from my waist down tis true, but that is a good thing. I liked it. A sense of accomplishment really, because that tightness told me the muscles were responding positively to the exercise. I also felt very calm. That was good too - right? Then why the moan? Well I also had absolutely no physical strength at all - no energy, nothing. I kept trying to get going, only to crawl back into bed after a few minutes of exertion. The cats thought it was great because it meant more sleep time with their human. Guess I shouldn't have spent that burst of energy at the end of the routine on housework. Never mind. Science and poetry anyone? Happy vernal equinox to you too.
I dreamt a lot about searching for some very specific titles of books through libraries, book stores and research rooms with out success. The dreams seemed to be endless. The books? Well there was a class of people among aboriginal tribes throughout north, central and south America who had carte blanche to travel as they would and were accepted as one of the tribe regardless of where they were. They were valued anywhere they went. They were the "storytellers". They wore their hair in a certain fashion so as to identify who they were. Like bards or troubadours, they carried the whole of the mythology and history of the continent's people in their heads and it was their entrance fee to any campfire or hearth that existed. The greatest were held in the same awe as Merlin. The keepers of the soul of the people. There have been some anthropologists who have painstakingly pieced those stories together over decades and published what they have learned as a way of preserving that heritage. Those were the books I was seeking in my dreams. At the end of the morning I finally realized that I cold find them by going to second hand stores or by digging through the archives of some of the museums and universities where being lost to regular ecirculation had saved them for my studies. The problem is that I don't really know what it is I am looking for or why. Odd.
I did do that yoga routine again today once that battery was recharged. I had to eat, I guess. This time it was Mr Mel who felt he had to engage directly in my practice. In the middle of triangle pose he hopped on to my right hip as I was trying to twist so that my right arm pointed first skyward then back behind my shoulder. He said he was just testing my balance. Whatever. He still got a talking to when I nearly crashed on the floor. I don't think that had all that much impact on him but the fact that his human almost landed on top of him did seem to make an impression. I don't think he'll try it again for a while. I also pulled out a couple of my belly dance tapes but I think I'll wait a day or two before adding them in. No point tempting fate any further. I think though that I will crawl back into bed and hope that tomorrow the fatigue won't take so long to dissipate. As I've noted before, dear diary, I feel more and more like a storage battery that gets drained of energy rather quickly instead of like a solar panel where as long as there's enough light the level of energy is the same. Have to work on that I guess. Good night.
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