Shiny happy people...

I'm so clean, I'm squeaking.  I swear my innards are glowing. What was going to be a ten day juice fast turned into a twelve day one and, to be honest, it would have been the easiest thing in the world to have kept going.  But one has to come home at some point and so I broke my fast on the plane with melon, nibbling chunks from my little pot while the couple next to me chomped away on monster chicken rolls, crisps and KitKat.  No judgement there, by the way - each to their own.  Talking of that it did amuse a little that a few people got a bit aerated about my fasting.  Dark mutters of 'it's not healthy, you know' and 'you don't need to detox - it's all nonsense' were heard.  But hey, I'm not asking anyone else to do it, just reporting my experience.  And my experience was good.  The proof of the pudding (so to speak) is, for me, in the not eating.

I arrived in Portugal feeling pretty rubbish.  I was aching all over, not sleeping, feeling dizzy and generally out of sorts.  I wondered if it was menopause finally getting snarky with me and had gone as far as to buy some herbal remedies (which I promptly forgot to take with me) but swiftly realised it was simply that I had been putting crap in my body and in my mind.

By the time I left my aches had all gone.  I was sleeping like a kitten (early to bed, early to rise). The dizziness had vanished too.  I felt bright, alert and clear-headed.  Also - praise be! - my rotator cuff decided to sort itself out (or nearly sort itself out).  What else?  Oh yes, now I'm back in a room where I can actually see my face in the mirror (my room there was VERY dark) my skin is clearer and softer and my eyes are brighter.  I've shed about five kilos of very much unwanted weight and I'm standing taller and sitting easier.  My mood is improved about 500 percent too.

It's not just the juice fasting, of course.  The yoga played a large part - all three teachers were great but I learned tons about bringing yoga into everyday life with Drew.  Then, of course, I had two mind and body-blowing sessions with Anita that really rummaged around in the murky depths of my psyche, untangling a lot of messy knots and activating a shedload of suppressed energy.  She is an extraordinary therapist and a big high five to Moinhos Velhos for having the guts to employ someone who works so deeply.  I've been on a lot of detoxes and they've all been pretty good but it's people like Anita and Drew who make the difference here.  Of course, it won't suit everyone - the Moinhos experience runs on Om and dances to Shiva - if you like to keep it all more...clinical...then there are plenty of other detoxes to choose - see the selection on Queen of Retreats (where I'll be filing my report on MV).

Of course, you don't have to go to a dedicated retreat centre to detox.  I wrote my book The Detox Plan
to help people do a gentle detox at home.  It includes a very sensible month-long cleanse that can fit around the average working week.  Ouch, that looks like a sell, doesn't it?

I promise I'll shut up about this now (or very soon).  But, you know, what it does drive home to me is that so many issues can be cleared up with three simple things:  food, movement, clearing mind/emotions.  If you eat crap, you'll feel crap.  If you don't move, you get stiff and uncomfortable. If you don't address your core issues and mind hang-ups, it's odds on you will stay miserable.
Do you have to do a twelve-day juice fast?  Of course not. But if you want to feel a shedload better, I'd heartily advise looking at how you treat your body and mind.
Now, of course, the big challenge is to stay in balance.  As I've found, time and time again, it's easy-peasy to do this stuff when you're away from home and work with all its stresses and temptations. Once you come back, it's all too easy to slide back into crappy habits.  We shall see...

Rummaging in the bowels of detox - Day Five

Day five of my stay at Moinhos Velhos. Fourth day without solid food.  I didn't sleep well and woke feeling a bit dizzy but a good yoga session with Sita sorted me out. Aches and pains have lessened off (I forgot to say I've had raging aches in my joints for the last few days). Hungry? Maybe a little bit at night but nothing to write home about.  One of the retreaters has come off the fast (she'd been fasting before she came so enough is enough) and is eating 'normal' food (tucked away in the living room) but it doesn't remotely bother me.

So, remember when I said you can't be squeamish about bodily functions on detox?  Well, that's down to the colon cleansing.  Here they use a system called the Clysmatic - a self-administered cleansing procedure for the large intestine.  Now, I have a bit of an issue with colonics - the first time I had one it was on the recommendation of a friend who raved about them.  'You'll feel fabulous,' she said.  'So clear and clean and just wonderful.'  Unfortunately I felt like...well...shit.  I could barely get up the energy to walk away from the clinic and I didn't feel right for weeks (quite apart from not having a normal crap for absolutely ages).  But the self-administered ones I've used on detox retreats are way more gentle and, the more I do these detoxes, the more I've come to realise that they really do make life a lot easier.  I've detoxed with and without these things and, trust me, life is far more pleasant when you use them - less headaches, more energy.  The theory behind it goes that, when you detox, all kinds of toxic gunk gets offloaded into the guts and, truly, do you really want that hanging around for days on end?  Bear in mind how constipated the average bod is - how many of you have more than one bowel movement a day?  Come on, own up!

Anyhow, that's the theory.  Of course some people say that there is absolutely no reason to cleanse the colon.  Then again, the same people would probably say there is no reason to detox in the first place - that our bodies can do it perfectly well on their own.  That's true, of course.  The body has a perfectly good self-detoxification system - lungs, liver, kidneys, intestines, skin...  But sadly we no longer live in a world where we can eat clean food, drink clean water, breathe clean air.

Meanwhile, back in my little bathroom at MV, I've been grappling with the Clysmatic.  Actually it's pretty simple - though, having said that, I've managed to flood my bathroom twice.  You fill up a container that's mounted on the wall above the loo.  Then you attach the tube that comes out of the bottom of the container to a contraption that fits around the seat of the loo, pop a rectal tube (please do look away at this point if you can't handle this kind of detail) on the metal tube and give it a good libation of Vaseline.  Then you (carefully) ease yourself onto the tube (yup, it goes about 3-5cm into your arse) and get comfy.  Open up a valve in the upper tube and the water will start to flow up your bum and into the intestines.  You keep your rectum squeezed tight until you feel the pressure build up and then you simply let go.  The tube stays in all the time and, truly, it's simplicity itself.  The whole thing takes about quarter of an hour and I have been using the time to catch up on texts. So, if you've had a text from me in the last few days...

So, we've been doing these twice a day and even those who were all 'Eeewww, I don't want to talk about it' are now regailing everyone round the table with tales from the coal face.

The upshot is that I'm feeling a lot lighter (quite literally - 2kg if you were wondering, Rachel!) and a shedload better.  My skin is looking clearer and my eyes are brighter.  After yesterday's emotional splurge, I've been mulling over a lot of things, trying to figure out why I make everything so damn hard for myself.  Time for some serious releasing of all my old shit - not just physically but metaphorically too.

If you made it this far, well done!  Here's a nice picture of flowers as a reward.

Full report coming on Queen of Retreats when I get back.  You can also read reports of other detoxes on the site here.

Detox Diary Day One

So, it struck me as I lay in bed this morning, feeling like death warmed up, that a lot of you probably haven't ever experienced a detox.  You might wonder what it's all about.  You might wonder how you feel.  As I said, I'm at Moinhos Vehlhos doing a ten day juice fast (reporting for Queen of Retreats).  I figured that, while I'm here, I'll try to write up a daily diary telling you what's actually goes on on detox. Who knows, it might persuade you to try it - or it might put you off for life!
Then again, I might run out of steam entirely.

I'll stick to the detox elements on the whole - you'll have to wait for the QoR report for the full Monty.

Of course, if all this leaves you completely cold, then feel free to avoid me for the next week or so.

So, yesterday...

Had about an hour's sleep (you know the score - when you know you have to get up at 3.30am, it's damn tough to slumber) so felt pretty grim at Bristol Airport.  Ate a granola yoghurt pot and plugged myself into FlowerSpirit's meditations and listened to those on loop for the duration of the flight (dozing in between).  'You'll be met at the airport by someone wearing a yellow t-shirt,' Frank had said (Frank is the co-founder of Moinhos).  Usually I peer at signs myopically but there was no missing the phalanx of people in canary yellow.  I shared the cab with a lovely woman called Bianca so barely noticed the journey.

The first thing I noticed at MV was the peace.  It's set in a valley, surrounded by trees - bathed in birdsong.  Quite magical.

I nibbled on some fruit (oranges straight from the tree) and got my bearings.  Supper was vegetable soup - with chunks of courgette, sweet potato and carrot.  Last solid food for a while.
Feeling pretty good.
Back to my room and realised I should have shut the door.  Three house martens have decided to make themselves at home and are swooping around the room, perching on my mosquito net and using my duvet as a bathroom. Twenty minutes of gentle persuasion later we part company.

I have all kinds of good intentions for meditating, doing some wind-down yoga, reading, whatever but my body has other ideas.  I lie back on the bed and I'm fast asleep by 9pm.

Am I hungry?  Not remotely.  Not yet at any rate.

Peter Oborne, the Telegraph, travel writing and Queen of Retreats

So, following Peter Oborne’s resignation from the Telegraph there has been a lot of debate about whether there is any form of independent journalism left.  He said:  ‘It has long been axiomatic in quality British journalism that the advertising department and editorial should be kept rigorously apart.’  Absolutely.  I remember, when I started in journalism at City Limits magazine, there was an absolute insistence that advertising could not, and must not, influence our writing.  Since then it has all become blurred to the point of illegible.

There have been dark mutterings about travel writing too – about how it’s rare now to find negative reviews in magazines and papers.  Why?  Because the writer’s trip has been funded by the hotel or tour company (who may well be taking out advertising too) so the water becomes very muddy.  But this is nothing new.  In an ideal world, the paper or magazine would fund the writer for the whole trip – this still happens on a rare few papers (the New York Times comes to mind) so the writer can be totally, truly independent.  But no UK paper has the budget.  So, unless a writer has personal wealth, one has to rely on freebies from the hotel, resort or travel company.  And that is why you will see the same old places being reviewed all over the shop – usually glowingly.  I don’t like that.  What I do like is Queen of Retreats.  I came across this outfit a few years ago, when I was looking for independent recommendations of great spas.  Someone on Twitter put me in touch with Caroline Sylger Jones, who runs the site and she was great – hugely knowledgeable, highly discerning, full of integrity.

Caroline at HHH in Greece.

Queen of Retreats is different from other online retreat, spa and healthy holiday websites.  It’s not a travel company and it’s not a listings site.  It features in-depth reviews of places its writers have visited and experienced (not just for a sample day but for the entire programme).  Said writers are all highly experienced: they know their Trager from their Thai massage and they can gauge whether a yoga teacher is good, bad or off with the fairies.  So many reviews in magazines (and even in papers  now) are written by someone who has no experience or knowledge base – without budgets for freelance experts, publications have to rely on staff doing the trip as a perk.  Fine if you get the health editor, not so fine if you get the intern who has never set foot inside a spa before.  Read QoR's mission statement here.  

Anyhow, what I really love is that the reviews are honest.  If something isn’t quite right, they point it out. If it’s not ideal for a certain kind of person, they say it like it is.  Although retreat venues do host the writer, they understand from the get-go that there is no guarantee of a shining review.  Obviously reviews are subjective – how could they not be?  But the reviewers are experienced enough to gauge if a place would suit others, even if it didn’t suit him or herself.

"It’s not smart or ritzy and you will need to turn a blind eye and a forgiving heart to the less than shiny bits. The decor isn’t inspired – if your idea of a retreat is all about contemporary interiors, fluffy bathrobes and spa ‘journeys’ look elsewhere."

Yes, it covers some of the big spas and retreats – the ones that have PRs, the ones you will read about everywhere, but it covers them honestly – not because an ad manager is hanging over the editorial team’s head.  However it also covers small retreats, the ones that have no budget for advertising or PR, the ones that otherwise wouldn’t get coverage, and that’s why I really love it.

Serenity Retreat in gorgeous Greece

So.  Bottom line.  If you’re thinking of going on retreat, if you fancy a spa break or a healthy holiday, do check out the website.  You’ll find a fair few of my reviews, including my beloved Serenity Retreat, The Body Retreat, Yobaba Lounge, Hellenic Healthy Holidays, and The Pause, rubbing shoulders with reviews of the big guys, SHA, Clinique La Prairie, Canyon Ranch and the Sanctuary Thailand (of The Beach fame).

Canyon Ranch

Do spread the word.  Because, in a world where advertising and editorial are all mixed up and muddled up, it’s refreshing to find a place where good old-fashioned editorial ethics still remain.  I think these places need our support.  Don’t you?

Visit the website at www.queenofretreats.com
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Dreaming on the starlit hill

So, there was a hill at The Deep Pause.  A gentle slope hill, not a hard slog hill.   At the top stretched a small stone circle with a fire-pit in the centre - a mini mandala.  A line of trees protected its exposed flank, dappling shadow-shapes onto the green green, grass-green grass.

The first night most of our group crashed early to bed but Danielle, Lynn and I sat around the fire and had one of those conversations that smack you sideways because you simply aren’t expecting them.  And it was all good.  Very good. 

Stretching out on the ground felt good too, and looking up as the stars stretched themselves out felt good, and listening to the myriad little sounds of the night felt good.  So good, in fact, that when the others went in, I didn’t want to follow.  I wanted to stay right there, in that sweet sweet spot, in the soft not-so-darkness and spend the night out under the sky, wandering/wondering through star semaphore.  So I curled up in my blanket (my snugly heart throw) and did just that.

Vague thoughts of vision quests arose, of confronting fears and wotnot but, really, that was daft because there was nothing out there to confront – the scary monsters and super freaks are all inside me, not rustling in the hedgerows.  My animal medicine was yet to come. 

It got darker and darker but it was a silky blue darkness, like rubbing your face in velvet. It felt so safe up there, so held, just me and the fire and the stars; the cool breeze on my face and the crackle and warmth of the fire on my back and the rough and tumble of the earth against my side, grazing shoulder and hip and head. 

It struck me again how insane it all is.  There I was, this little ant stuck to this little planet like a fridge-magnet, whizzing through space, roller-coastering through time.  Isn’t it crazy?  You'd think that, at some point, the earth would go 'Oh, just sod it' and let go and you'd just ping off out there, like a stone from a child's catapult.  For now at least, it doesn't but, while the body stays behind, the mind can go...anywhere, anywhen.  Can't it?  

I put another log on the fire and turned over to stare at the stars and dream and dream and dream. 

'Proper' report coming soon on Queen of Retreats.

Waterloo Farm is pretty magical - if you're planning a trip to Cornwall, maybe check out their website? 

The Pause and the Invitation

from www.lifebydanielle.com

I'm just back from The Deep Pause in Cornwall. It's a five day retreat run by life coach Danielle Marchant and I was there to report for Queen of Retreats. Funny thing, I wasn't even sure I wanted to go.  I was feeling low, on one hell of a downer for all sorts of reasons, and I just didn't feel I had the energy or the inclination to engage.  I felt I had nothing left to give and my life felt like such a mess that I really didn't think that something like life coaching could help in any which way.

Wrong.  So wrong.  It was a totally mind- and soul-blowing experience all told and I need to digest what went on for a bit before I splurge.  But, right now I just want to give heartfelt thanks to Danielle, to Amy (who did way more than just cook incredible food) and to Lynn, Caroline, Sarah and Hayley (soul-sisters one and all)...oh, and Dave (who played guitar - another story in itself).

But let me start with the ending.  Just before we left, Danielle read out Oriah Mountain Dreamer's poem The Invitation.  I have seen the poem around a lot but, you know, I haven't ever really read it, I haven't really listened.  This time I shut my eyes and I did listen, and it chimed. A lot.  So I thought I'd just put it out here for you in case it has passed you by or in case, like me, you have never really paused to take it in.

There are parts of it that are really harsh, that make me wince - for example, 'I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself?'  Ouch.   And many other parts that make me want to punch the air and say 'YES!'

(c) Oriah Mountain Dreamer - this image from TheChicSite.com

To be continued...hopefully.

Om Shanti? F**k yeah! (Bandha me sideways)

Yay! Yoga day.  You know how I love my yoga, right?   Now I fully accept that not everyone shares my enthusiasm and, truly, I was the same for many years.  My mother got into yoga in the sixties – she used to wander around the house in her black footless tights and long-sleeved, scoop-necked, full-bottomed leotard with some kind of symbol on the front (no, not the Om, some kind of star).  

Sort of a bit like this...

Anyhow, when my mother embraced something, she saw it as her divine duty to get everyone else on board.  I, naturally enough, rebelled, and wanted nothing to do with yoga for years. I whined that it was ‘boring’ – I preferred high octane aerobic classes and squash.  Actually I’m kicking myself now because, if I’d got into yoga younger, I’m pretty sure I’d be levitating by now.  My mother was still as bendy as a reed and as beautiful as a lotus flower in her eighties.  Nutty as a fruit cake as well, but hey…

I was reminded of my old attitude while I was out in Greece, doing a week’s fitness retreat with Hellenic Healthy Holidays. * There were eleven of us on the trip and, while everyone had some kind of fitness regime going on at home, very few had tried yoga.  They felt (like young me) that it was boring. They said they were put off by the idea of po-faced purity of the Paltrow variety.  Or that they felt sure everyone would be pretzelling themselves while they could barely touch their toes.

She'd do a downward dog anywhere - even on top of a cliff! 

‘Oh, the hell with that,’ said our yoga teacher, the sublime Jacqui Porjes.  ‘There’s a yoga for everyone, even those who hate yoga.’  She paused and then narrowed her eyes and curled her lip.  ‘Om Shanti!’ she snarled, and we all gave grateful Namaste to the goddess of ‘Hell yeah yoga’ before collapsing in giggles. Jacqui has taught yoga all over the world but now mainly works in London as a personal trainer using a killer combo of cardio, yoga and Pilates.  Blissfully irreverent, with a dirty laugh, a big wide smile and the kindest heart, she makes yoga fun, so much fun.  Actually almost too much fun – it’s darn hard floating in plank when you’re laughing your head off. 

‘Bandhas! Bandhas, my darlinks,’ she crooned in a cod Jewish mother accent.  Jacqui’s big on bandhas.  These are the yogic body locks said to create inner strength, hold the spine in alignment and release tension in the body – at least on a basic physical level.  There are all kinds of more esoteric purposes behind your basic bandha but let’s keep it simple, Jacqui style. 

So, I went looking for a good bandha pic and found this chap.  Yeah.  Nice kit, fella.

So it’s a case of contracting and holding the muscles around the anus; contracting and holding the muscles that stop you peeing and contracting the muscles of the lower abdomen (pulling navel to spine as you would in Pilates).  Yup, all three at the same time.  And…hold.  Throughout the entire yoga flow.  Ye Gods!  Om hell!  This is supposed to release tension?? 

'Bandhas, darlinks, bandhas...'

But Jacqui was insistent.  ‘If you don’t have your bandhas engaged, everything is just so difficult,’ she insisted.  Then turned, fixed me with a beady gaze and hissed, ‘Bandhas!’  Truly, the woman was psychic – every time I forgot and let it all hang out, she’d turn round, raise an eyebrow and mouth the word. 

And, by heck, she was right.  If you keep it all tucked in, asanas do become easier.  In fact, everything  becomes easier.  So I’m sitting here, at my desk, focusing on my posture, tucking in my bandhas.  Because, if I don’t, I’m willing to bet my phone will bleep and there’ll be a text from Jacqui hissing, ‘Bandhas, darlink! Bandhas!’

Om Shanti?  F**k yeah!

If you live in London and want a kick-ass personal trainer or to overcome your yoga fear, check out Jacqui’s website. 

* Don’t let the name Hellenic Healthy Holidays put you off – honestly it’s not some kind of Saga-esque rambling around ancient monuments trip.  I absolutely loved it, every last bit of it (yes, even the bandhas) – I’ll be writing it up for Queen of Retreats so you’ll be able to read the full report there.