Late to bed, Late to rise
I went to bed late last night, after a hot bath well past midnight. I do not remember walking from the tub to my bed, lying down, nor falling to sleep. I awoke this morning at 8:30 (unusually late for me) fully cognizant of my desire to begin to capture, in writing, the time Chris and I spent in Kenya this month of July.
After two weeks back in the States, I remain without clarity for what to write nor even where to begin, but each day I have been processing, coming closer. It seems then that this morning I am creating the ideal environment in which to invoke the emotions and memories. I have surrounded myself with the comforts of home, sitting on the floor, leaning against a folded futon. At the same time, I recognize the irony in this when one of my first entries will be about the lack of food in the Rift Valley.
I enjoyed a bowl of oatmeal with Colorado honey, blueberries, raisins, and a sliced banana downed with a mug of ginger tea which I made from grated ginger root boiled with honey, cinnamon, and a touch of finely crushed red pepper. If there were just one drink which I would readily consume each and every day it would be home made ginger tea or kombucha, the stringent, ancient Chinese drink made from a carefully crafted growth of Acetobacter (acetic acid bacteria) and yeast. Once you get over the living cultures floating in the jar, it’s quite good.
I crave the satisfaction of sweet spice. The burning sensation of ginger reminds me that what I consume was not processed nor frozen nor sterilized with radiation and preservatives. It is living food for living bodies, like yogurt, fresh fruit and vegetables.
Listening to Car Talk on NPR and then Enigma, Enya, and Flynn. I am ready.
Perhaps a good place to start will be a story we can all relate to, even appreciate in retrospect; a story of playing host to nasty parasites, ancient survivors which thrive within us, wreaking havoc on our bodies, social structures, and economies …