“There has been no shortage of health deities over the years, from the Aztec god of medicine Ixtlilton to the Afro-American Babalu Aye, spirit of illness and disease. There are at least sixteen in Celtic mythology alone; the Greeks and Romans had more than twenty between them. You would be hard pressed to find a topic that matters more to humans – who are we without our health?” – New Philosopher
It’s tough being a hippy in the Eastern suburbs. The cost of my organic groceries, essential oils, sleep hacking devices and fair-trade yoga pants is becoming increasingly hard to manage and is proving to be quite the sore spot in both my relationship and budget.
Ever been to yoga on a Sunday afternoon? The room stinks. It smells like vodka, off cheese, semen and come-down all packed together in an overheated sweat box. If you’re not passed out on the floor rocking in fetal position, you’re sweating out the weekend and some poor life choices on an eco-friendly, non-slip yoga mat.
I have a long list of ‘pseudo-health professionals and spiritual guides’ who I visit when I’m off-kilter and out of balance. I’d rather a Naturopath over a Doctor as I much prefer those smelly herbal concoctions over antibiotics any day. If I’m exhausted I see an Energy Healer, I seek guidance from Psychics and have skype chats with my favourite Astrologer. I get that it’s woo woo but it works for me.