Day 612: Juicier than a Pineapple, Wiser than a Fig

Elephant god

Well will you look at that big fat harvest moon, ready for the reaping. What it's reaping, according to moonly friends of mine, [ooh, a dog just came in the cafe... love it love it love it - SO easily pleased] is emotional shite that you don't need any more. I'm in for a bit of that. Not that I'm carrying any particular story of emotional terribleness - just, you know, always good to have a purge. 

Moon

Once again (and if this is getting boring, just stop reading), I'm boomed in the brain by the incredible friends I have and the delicious, wonderful, fabulous people in my life. I was thinking about J yesterday, and this morning I stumbled upon a response to my out of office (which promised that I'd do anything asked of me) requesting that I chant 'I'm juicier than a pineapple, wiser than a fig" 20 times. This has been done, and I think I like it so much, I shall make it my mantra. In fact, I might even start a cult. Forget Jaya Ganesha, Gajananam and Arati, we're going to chant THIS!

Elephant god

Speaking of which, I sang Gajananam (sung to Ganesh) this morning at the start of my yoga practice. Thanks, Lilley, for inviting me to do the 108 day practice (anyone else want to join? Just hit me up on text and text me every day when you've done your 15-minute practice - you can do more; that's just the minimum). I notice that Victoria Sandison has infected me with a predilection for the semicolon (though I just had to check whether it took a hyphen, and autocorrect taught me that it's predilection, not predeliction - been saying that wrong for years). 

Moon

Language rocks, doesn't it? It's better than clothes. It's also different to clothes in many ways. If I had to choose between the two, though (unlikely, but it's good to be prepared), then it'd be language. Without language, how would I communicate that beige makes me look like I've died, and green's my favourite colour, and that I particularly like clothes that feel soft and caressy on my skin and ones that match my eyes and that trousers should never, ever, ever be too short, rather much too long, if it comes to it? Without clothes, I'd be cold, so I'd have to move to the jungle or some warm mountains. I can handle that. You can make clothes, anyway. You can make language too, but it takes aeons (not sure exactly what an aeon is, but we're talking generations of grunting and I just don't have the patience). 

I have work to do. Can you tell? I can. I'm grateful for this blog, and for wonderful FiSwe for waking me up to it again. Off to work.