The P in SPICE

 SPICE, my measuring stick of life:

S- Spiritual

P- Physical

I- Intellectual

C- Creative

E- Emotional

I like to go through these letters in order, checking them off, recognizing the need to change my words and deeds so that my inner balance can return.

I have been working on the physical challenge for a while now.  Have to admit that there's a little too much indulgence in couch lounging, but I have begun (again) to tackle the uphill battle of regaining mobility in my back and arm.  Having gained some understanding through my lovely  physiotherapist, Ingrid, of damaged muscles atrophied and shrunken, I now have  a plan.  MOVE dammit....and perhaps get back to the physio to be punctured with acupuncture needles intramuscularly (EEK! those needles go in far) aka IMS or Intramuscular Stimulation.

Moving is to take place, in part, on walks outside. This is an interesting contrast; I find that my inner demons are quelled with some good, ol' fashioned exercise, which can only be done by moving one's outer shell.  

It's hard to get oneself going when it's so cold (can you hear the whinging?) and when one has to get in their vehicle to go for a walk. Ahem.  I think writing and posting these complaints has helped me realize just how sad an effort to rationalize it is.  I will post pics on this post after getting my arse in gear.  promise.

Complaints aside for the moment, I would like to share just how glorious it is to walk my dogs

through a gorgeous setting.  I have a favourite little valley, just up the road a spell.  It's close to Canyon road, named, I'm assuming because of a jagged cut in the otherwise fairly flat prairie landscape.  Here, I pull  the truck 1/2 off the road, unload the waggie, sniffing dogs (one purebred 11 yr old Border Collie, named Lily, and one 10 yr old 1/2 Belgian Shepherd, 1/2 Collie, 1/2 Stupid Dog named Zeus or more fondly "Zoos").  I keep them both on leashes, as there have been too many hour long waits at the truck while Zeus finds his way back from chasing a deer, and last year there was a cougar siting in the area, so no chances taken.  

We walk for 2 minutes surrounded by fields, that in the spring will likely be planted with hay or canola, the typical crops around here. And then, as if they understand that the taming of the land disappears with the view behind large (for Alberta) spruce trees, the dogs become feverish.  I let the leashes out, and they find new and exciting ways to tangle themselves, tripping and pulling to smell those delicious smells of wild life.  With Caesar Milan in mind, I organize the pooches and we begin our descent on the winding road into the little valley.  

The rest is for me, the dogs and whoever wishes to come with.  

Another form of movement I've found of late is YOGA.  mmmm.  It's not the yoga in 35 degrees Celcius, overlooking the treetops of Costa Rica's jungle to the mile-away ocean, listening to the Howler monkeys and Toucans,  whilst following a lovely, limber Yogi's gentle practices.  But there is satisfaction in plugging in one of my two yoga dvds, finding private space in my house and using my body, filling it with good air, healing with words and motion, and intent.  I love yoga as if it was personified.