Brain Health Beyond the Body

Sometimes, I think we spend so much time worrying about our hips and waists—mine certainly haven’t been what they used to be—that we forget to look after the most important part: the brain. It's easy to get caught up in those numbers on the scale, isn't it? Particularly as one gets older. I recall Bernard muttering darkly about his cholesterol just last week; a familiar refrain over the years. But what good are perfectly reasonable blood pressure readings if your memory is beginning to fray at the edges?

I’ve been reading about some interesting research lately concerning green tea, of all things. Seems there's a compound within it that may offer protection against some of the cognitive decline we associate with carrying extra weight. It almost sounds too good to be true, doesn’t it? Another bit of folk wisdom turning out to have genuine scientific merit. I always did believe in the power of simple remedies.

It makes one ponder the delicate balance, really. Enjoying a slice of Bernard’s apple pie – and he does make a *remarkable* pie, you know—or indulging in a few extra squares of dark chocolate (the good kind, with sea salt) is undeniably pleasurable. It's part of what it means to live, isn’t it? But there has to be some consideration given to the long game. I remember my own mother always saying, “A little bit every day adds up.” She wasn’t talking about pie specifically, but the sentiment holds true for all things, good and less so.

My grandmother, Elsie, used to make a wonderful green tea – not the fancy matcha sort you see everywhere now, just plain leaves steeped in hot water. It was bitter on its own, so she always added a touch of honey. I’d sit with her on the porch swing, listening to her tell stories about growing up during the war. Those memories are precious, of course – some of the clearest I have. The thought that something as simple as tea could help protect those kinds of memories... well, it's quite comforting.

There's a certain natural sorting process that goes on within us all, apparently—a way our bodies recycle and repair at a very basic level. It’s like tending a garden: you have to pull out the weeds sometimes so the good plants can thrive. I’ve found myself thinking about that quite a lot lately since my shift in focus – really seeing astrology as something more central now, not just an occasional glance at the ephemeris. Everything has its time and season for growth and decay.

Phyllis and I had our autumn equinox gathering last year; such a lovely afternoon spent amidst the late-blooming roses and sunflowers. She’s always been very keen on preventative measures – started taking all sorts of supplements years ago. I used to tease her about it, but now... well, now I'm more inclined to listen. There’s something rather appealing about embracing a little wisdom from someone else who seems to be doing things right.

It’s not about deprivation, mind you. Not at all. It’s about mindful choices. Perhaps a smaller slice of pie, or a cup of green tea alongside that dark chocolate. Small adjustments, gentle nudges in the direction of wellness. Bernard says I’m becoming obsessively healthy, but I think he just means I'm paying attention to things differently. He still enjoys his daily biscuits with afternoon tea, and I’m not about to tell him otherwise!

Ultimately, it feels good to be armed with a little extra knowledge. It gives one a sense of agency, doesn’t it? A feeling that we can, within reasonable limits, steer our own course. And maybe, just maybe, enjoy that apple pie without quite so much worry. The garden is flourishing this year; the tomatoes are enormous and the basil is fragrant. That alone feels like a victory worth celebrating.