Have you ever dreamed of retreating to a tropical island for a month to detox on healthy organic food, relax by the beach sipping fresh coconuts, splurge on massages, practice daily yoga as the sun rises and sets and have someone else attend to your every need?
As 2014 rolls over, many of us too are rolling over in misery as we pray the new start to 2015 will wash away all our guilt, wrongdoings, failings and shame from the year past. With a new year, however, comes new hope. So I won’t deprive you of that. I’m not a soulless vermin. But with this hope, pay heed to this warning. Hope exposes you to a certain vulnerability. The kind of shonky dealings that promise rapid weight loss pills, or a magical prowess to conquer your fears in one breath, gain 20 pounds of muscle overnight and the inevitable, juicing/superfood/rare Amazonian plant with the power to eliminate every health ailment known to man detox secret for radiant health. The kind of ‘too good to be true offers’ that prey on your New Years Resolution.
I have this thing. This thing where every year tends to kick the previous year in the butt. Like literally. Whether it’s for the better or the worse. They just love trying to trump each other. What’s with that? THANKFULLY, 2014 kicked 2013 in the butt in a good way.
Here I am. Sitting here, watching the waves roll over each other imagining myself out there gliding over each one. But I choose to sit and observe. The morning glow of the sun shimmering the most magnificent shades of gold off the white foam. Beneath is a deep blue. During the ever so brief moments of calm it even looks like silky smooth velvet. As the waves crash, I deliberate over whether the sounds come first or because I”m looking at them I then hear the sound. A rather strange thought to be mellowing over when there are bigger fish to be frying over in my mind. Like ya know, saving the world.
I may be the last standing human on this planet (or at the very least, in the privileged world of the West) who has never held a little gold plated gym membership card in her hot little hands. I’m 25 years old. This is prime time (apparently) to be sporting crop tops and butt revealing short shorts in an attempt to woo other muscle bulging, weight pumping junkies. Supposedly.
If ever there were such a thing as farming celebrity (which I totally think there should be – take that mind numbing Hollywood), Joel Salatin would be an A-lister. Well, he kind of is if you speak with anyone hailing from any of the Permaculture, Paleo, Real Food, Sustainable Agriculuture, ‘Save the world from the plight of factory farming and earth pillaging’ movements. He’s got a voice and he’s not afraid to use it.
Since my current ‘circumstances’ that have something to do with gypsy-like global gallivanting often finds me far from the comfort of a kitchen (possibly the only downside of travel… oh, and missing loved ones at home probably ranks up there too), I don’t have a great deal of opportunity to get stuck into my usual weekly routine of real food recipe creation. If you haven’t noticed this, I’ll forgive you. I don’t shy away from the fact that sometimes I feel like I’m living in the shadows of some of the greatest recipe bloggers known to man. Truth of the matter is, my blog isn’t a recipe blog. SHOCK HORROR. It never intended to be though. I just love to freaking make a mess in the kitchen and stuff my face with glorious, healthy, real food. So I share these tasty creations (yes, I am intentionally protecting you from the ones that don’t turn out) with you when I can in hope of inspiring you on your own real, sustainable food journey.
Emily here! A self-coined urban hippie who’s here to break-down the essence of sustainable living & make this lifestyle more accessible to my fellow urban dwellers & ‘hippies’ at heart (no dreadlocks required). This blog is more than just learning how to recycle. It’s a full lifestyle makeover – of the mind, the home, the food, the habits… nothing is safe. I’m bringing you back down to earth baby! Peace xEmily More…
