Rose-Colored Lenses (a Self-Reflection Series)
Day two of the water fast. I'm not drinking as much water as I need to, however I don't have that constant urge to want to eat or even smell food.
I jogged to the marina in the afternoon and observed a crocodile cruising through the sparkling sunset water, reminding me of Captain Hook and the value of time in the present. My heart solidifies when I forget to be grateful, like turning into stone. My left and right sides of my brain are balancing the sometimes overbearing past and future. It's a scale, that sweet spot of balance is peace. I saw three total crocodiles today!
The past version of me worked too hard, would get a headache, take anywhere between two to four pills of Tylenol or sometimes drink to fall asleep, wake up from a nightmare after four hours, frustratingly cry in bed because of my inability to sleep, wait until my morning alarm rang for PT, and then be totally out of it while at PT.
I forget sometimes to pat myself on the back for getting myself out of that mess, no matter how thankful I am for the experiences.
I think this water fast is going really easily because I just got sick with myself not appreciating the food I was eating. Eating food is a luxurious, ancestral experience. Hard work well earned, an invested abundance. Sometimes when going out and eating food by myself, I would imagine eating with my ancient relatives. Thanksgiving. What relationship do we have with the things that we put into our body? Are we kind to our body? Are we grateful for life? Eating is a tell-tale sign.
It was nice having a garden. I saved some lime and papaya seeds for growing. And stripped some cords for copper. There's a crystal store nearby.
Our gateway to personal sovereignty is self-sustainability. 11:55pm.
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