It's been a grey day today. Grey skies, cool light, washed out clouds, rain. A heart that's struggling amidst the grey. Yesterday I made the mistake of going online and reading about our government's response to India's COVID crisis, which was to basically ban all flights from that country. Remember we have many Australian citizens who live there, and that have been trying to come back for some time. There's debate in this country about who is Australian, especially in terms of who is given help in times of crisis. If you've been to India, you risk a huge fine if you try to get into the country. That wasn't an issue with Americans, or the British, or Europeans. Being of Indian appearance doesn't make you eligible to be saved, it seems. Oh yes of course - we have a virus that we're all terrified of, and we don't want to be overrun with it like they are. But that's been the case all along. Why abandon Australians of Indian birth or heritage? It's just another devastating reminder not to go online and read about things that I can't control, like over 170 kids stranded in India without their parents.

When you're heart's struggling a little, other things can seem even worse. Last weekend I fell off my bike. The bike I'd vowed I wouldn't ride since the last time I fell off it (that did involve a demijohn of blackberry wine and a hedge, granted). After sitting under a tree for half an hour hoping no one saw this shameful show of inelegance, and trying not to throw up, I managed to get through to the hubs to pick me up, basketful of broccoli and silverbeet and all, swapped at the Food is Free stall for a handful of eggplant..

The bruise that immeditately flushed on my skin became purple, yellow and black, and a little green too. I do bruise easily. The pain subsided somewhat, and five days later, I had a beautiful surf at my favourite break in unexpected sunshine. The sky was the same colour as my bruise, but the sun managed to dance in the clouds and cut through the darkness for a blessed few hours. I felt no pain.

Yesterday, two days after the surf, I could no longer ignore the bruise as every time I touched it, I'd get a feeling that was halfway between an electric shock and a burn. A strange feeling. I remembered the fall and the strange wiring in my brain that found it exquisite, almost orgasmic for a moment. Like the pain of an orgasm. The brain can deal with pain messages in odd ways, but I'm not a fan of this latest instalment in my bike injury saga. Sitting in the car, moving in particular ways - the same burning, electrifying, painful feeling. It resulted in a sleepless night.

So my Mother's Day substitute was out - today I had a day off and my beautiful boy was going to come down from Melbourne and we were going to walk the dog on the beach and go get pho with my Mum. But I was so miserable. The pain in my leg, the grey in my heart, the wintery slap of weather this morning. It was all I could do not to cry. Scratch that. I sat in the shower and bawled.

But medicine comes in all sorts of ways. A phone call from my boy and another from Mum got me laughing. Family can cheer you up, bless them. That was enough to shake the tears away and start the day.

Antinflammatories of course were in order. I've been drinking bucketloads of turmeric, ginger and pepper tea, cooled and mixed with honey and lemon. But I had nothing else in my natural medicine cabinet, and something stronger was needed.

In Wholefoods, I chat to a friend who works there about making fire cider and she hands me an arnica cream made in the Otways, just near us. I wasn't that keen on the pharmacist's brand so I'm thrilled to find one locally. But I still need something stronger, and some more magnesium.

Our pharmacist is a young Indian Australian, Aman. We're all a bit in love with him. He's so darn nice, has a huge smile, and is super caring. The town jokes that we will never let him leave. I go to him rather than the doctors, as I know what I need, I just need confirmation, and a second opinion other than my own. He hands me a magnesium that he believes is good - it's my favourite brand, and this one has withuania in it, otherwise known as ashwaghandwa, which I say. He'd never heard of it until yesterday, where he was chatting to one of the staff there who loves it for her anxiety. The three of us chat about it, and I tell him it's a plant that Indians love, in the ayurvedic tradition. He's fascinated, and pleased. We talk for a while about India. His parents are in Mumbai, but they're okay - they are fairly well off, and live in a gated community. He was lucky enough to visit them before COVID hit. I chat to one of the girls about anxiety and how amazing ashwaghandwa is, which she agrees, and leave the store with the magnesium and some Voltaren.

At home, my heart is a little better - those little connections and conversations make a difference in a day.

I rub arnica on my leg, drink ginger tea and do a chakra meditation and japa - om namo narayanaya. It's a plea for world peace, and brings inner peace, which descends on me as it rains outside and the birds flutter in the trees. The fire is on and I begin to thaw out.