The sad case of coconuts

It's no secret that I love cooking and food.  Being in the kitchen is my other favourite place besides the hot room.  As I was opening with a can of coconut milk, I became saddened.  Saddened at the fact that soon, the prices of a can of coconut milk is going to go up and the quality will go down.  And more seriously, the production of coconuts will see (or already is seeing) a sharp rise in response to the higher demand brought on by the health craze over coconut water and coconut products in general.

Yes, I am very aware of the hypocrisy of where this is coming from.  I, an Asian in Canada, is opening a can of coconut produced from Thailand.  It may seem on the surface that I am no different than those who carry cases of coconut water on their way out of Whole Foods, that I am a willing participant in this international dance of supply and demand.  Yes, I am guilty.

But while I am consumer of coconut products as warranted by my cultural culinary needs, my people's occasional stock and use of coconut milk is not what could lead to the possible ruin of coconut farms in the near future.  I fear that the current craze over the health benefits of coconut will lead to really bad things.  And the biggest consumers of this craze?  The yoga/fitness/natural health industry.

Here's a snapshot: Multinational corporations, after seeing the demand for coconut water, will soon or have already bought out small local companies in order to increase efficiency, and of course, to cash in on the current health craze.  Farming methods will change in order to produce more, similar to current milk and egg production (we all know how well criticized these are).  This move will change the landscape of local economies, adding to the already long list of foreign ownership of once-local farms.  It will increase the price of coconut and coconut products locally, hurting those who regularly use it in their cultural cuisines, while we, on this side of the world, are willingly pay up to $4 a can for coconut water.  When the next superfood is 'discovered', this industry will be abandoned, causing major loss to local farmers and local economies.  Similar to how the Peruvians can no longer afford their local quinoa, the coconut producers will soon be this way too.

Over the course of 3 years, the price of a can of coconut milk has increased (inflation put into consideration), as well as the coconut juice that my mom has been buying for us since we were kids.  These aren't of any special quality either, just your typical Asian fruit beverage health snobs wouldn't even touch.  But now, I'm seeing them more and more in grocery stores at an alarming rate.  It doesn't seem normal to have THAT much coconut juice that people ignored for 20 yrs before.

I might have a can between classes and teaching when eating is not possible or when I'm desperate, but generally, I realized that I have subconsciously prevented myself from drinking coconut water.  I enjoy coconut differently than the typical drinker today. I enjoy it because I grew up with it.  A lot of our cultural foods use it not solely because of its health benefits (which, btw, have been discovered long time ago by indigenous tribes), but because it was local and accessible.  I enjoy it because it reminds me of home, of my grandma's desserts, of the oils that waft through my mama's kitchen.  Not because my health will suddenly improve or that it suits the cleanse I am on or that they supplied it in cases during yoga teacher training.

Let's help maintain a healthy system for coconut production.  To my fellow yogis, please think about your karma yoga when you buy that can of coconut water.  Because, despite what you read about, once that coconut water is canned, most of its nutritional value is diminished.  And you just spent $4 for it.  

This too, shall pass

Over the past two years, I absolutely enjoyed that my practice had finally become something I didn't hesitate about.  The fear of falling, the disappointments of my body's limitations, the frustrations - they all slowly melted away as I matured onto my mat.  I loved it.  

And I knew then that I was a hatha yoga practitioner for life.  I had known this for a long time, thus being one of the reasons I pursued teacher training.  I was growing, moving forward.

Or so I thought.

After reaching new depths, I started settling for just the right amount of 'edge', instead of pushing healthy boundaries.  While on my mat, I became routined, unadventurous.  I was comfortable. 

Slowly, it started to catch up to me.  The past few months, I struggled to find something that challenged or inspired me.  Disillusioned, the hot room was no longer the place it was once before.

I simply took up space.  I felt numb.

As a teacher, I remain excited and enthusiastic for the students, as I am ever the cheerleader.  Inside, I mourned my own yoga, grieving and aching for those days where my heart would race so fast I feel it all the way to my fingertips or be so calm that the earth stood still.  My practice wavered, unable to reach that inexplicable 'amazing feeling' I've always found before.  I've stopped pushing myself, I let the outside world in that hot room, allowing others to steal my peace.  Still, I continued to show up with a slowly breaking heart, knowing that things have changed.  

Despite this loss, the dreamer in me believes that something better is just around the corner, that this, all of this, is a test to my conviction. Because there was a time when my practice wasn't this way.

In times of physical injury where I am forced to be more patient, I tell myself this simply a lesson that I needed to learn about myself.  Maybe this, whatever this is, is an injury of sorts as well.  And that it will heal itself, too.

Tomorrow, I will return to the hot room.  And I may fall and I may struggle.  But I will also make a promise to remain hopeful even when I find myself grieving, standing on that mat.  

This too, shall pass.