What day is it?
The 23rd.
We're getting there, aren't we?

To death, was the first thing I thought.

Where else could she mean? September? The end of summer? To cold weather probably.
The earth ship, it moves towards seasons. Rotating and spinning make less sense

And then what when we get there? What changes?

In fall everything changes. But that's probably not what she meant.
Well,
we're getting there. Wherever she's going and wherever I'm going, we're getting there.

post-yoga

a thunder moon (appropriately with summer showers, lightning and thunder)
a long walk with headphones instead of shoes
a yoga class
another yoga class
and veggie burgers served in compostable wrappers
(with an organic beer)

day = good

sunset in the central Himalayas.

fog

i was slow at adding today. double-digit numbers. second nature. look at the numbers and expect the sum. instead i had to look at the two numbers, and construct the sum. like fumbling while walking a dry mouth in speech or tripping over thoughts.
it's difficult to follow instructions, i keep referring to the same page, did i read it right? Or to memorize a password of letters and numbers. not easy.
like i can't multitask think.
is it the
infection? treatment? exhaustion? distraction?
my mind in fog.

early fog in the central Himalayas. 

plain

my mind is usually a dangerous place to be in.

thoughts flying every which way, voices speaking over other voices, busy and loud. 

and i like that, and i like in yoga and in breath when that all clears and its just me in yoga and in breath.

the past few weeks have been quiet. but not yoga (and post-yoga) quiet. 

without drive to investigate to probe to dive. 

it seems instead that that would all be very exhausting.

and that’s how i know i’m ill.

because this hunt for anything, this curiousness that i follow, is quiet. or blank. or rot. 

not helped by the sterility of this week’s hospitals and needles and IV

mind on a me-normal day

Day VI of IV

antibiotics for infections i test negative for.

i test negative for everything. nurses say it's probably some unfamiliar parasite.

india, she says, that's why I'm not going there.

what if they're (we're...although i'm not really involved in the process) doing this all wrong?

what if instead of antibiotics, the fluid was carrot juice (or beet, or kale, or some ginger blend)?

maybe i'd die. would require some preliminary tests.

but,

i prefer thinking of a hospital with juice blend IVs and rooms dense with evergreen trees and shrubs,

oxygen tanks.

and where admission bracelets are small potted plants you carry around your neck,

blue flowering plants for paediatrics and wild roses for emergency.

carrot juice IV

hello.

i am sufficiently awkward. 

especially with introductions.

so, 

a “hello” from my blog should be no different.

this will be the space i share my thoughts, my adventures.

and post a few pictures.

and maybe (i will) talk about music, dance. art. 

me.