Browsing: Author Archive RSS

  • Coconuts and Kombucha

    54 comments Published Oct 24, 10 AM
    facebooktwittergoogle_plusredditpinterestlinkedinmailby feather

    By Kate Stone

    Once a year, every year, I throw a whole, unbroken coconut in the garbage.

    This tradition dates back to when I was little and my dad would buy a coconut for us to drain and eat. It was a novelty, this coconut — this weird, hairy fruit that barely anyone would buy in its whole state. But we would buy it. We would hammer it with nails and reap the rewards. We would do the work and not be lazy.

    Except that we would forget. Or we would be busy being people. And then the coconut would sit there and shed all over the fridge. And eventually my mom would make us throw it away.

    Now, every year, my dad sends me a coconut as a joke. He knows that it will sit in the fridge for months. When I finally admit that I will never eat it, I throw it away.

    Yes, there are starving children in Africa. Hell, there are starving children in my apartment building. I doubt they would eat a months-old coconut, but they would probably eat the half-package of arugula that I tossed earlier this week. Or the wrinkled red pepper from last week.

    It’s not that I am wasteful as a person.

    It’s just that I have all these grand plans of eating like a champ. Like a “true yogi.” I would very much like to put whole foods into my body and see how well it performs, but here’s the truth:

    1. Coconut water tastes like someone jacked off in your regular water.
    2. I like meat. Specifically, lamb. Sorry, animals.
    3. KIND bars do not make me feel full. They make me thirsty. And gassy. Ditto for Luna bars and anything with dates.
    4. There is not enough money in the world to make me do a juice cleanse. I would rather just not eat.
    5. Is Kombucha a joke? Because I’m pretty sure it’s the same as dumping okra into iced tea and letting it rot.
    6. I looooove Diet Coke.

    So, to the starving children of Apartment 6, I apologize for throwing out assorted vegetables. I was overambitious in my cooking plans this week. (Read: I ate M&Ms for dinner instead of making a salad because that is what sounded good to me.)

    Part of what I love so much about yoga is the ability to tune into what I actually want at any given moment. Sometimes that is Diet Coke. Never will it ever be Kombucha. Does this make me less of a “true yogi?” It at least makes me honest.

    Every year, that damn coconut reminds me to accept where I’m at, even if that’s a lazy place. And eat things I like. That seems pretty yogic to me.

    About Kate Stone

    Kate started taking yoga in middle school as a rebellious move against sports camp. After years of gymnastics, not having to flip over after a backbend was a relief, and the practice stuck. After college, Kate moved to Chicago to teach mean children how to read. She was marginally successful but felt severely, physically ill-equipped to deal with the fighting in her classroom. As someone who takes things literally, she became a personal trainer. Kate spent eight years in Chicago working in gyms, bars and museums, feeling like she was supposed to have a real job. Last year she realized she doesn’t ever want one of those. Kate spent all of her money on yoga training, and is now a yoga teacher, writer and bartender living in Boston.