Ayurveda (आयुर्वेद, "life-knowledge") is an ancient Hindu medical system that has at its heart three doshas, proclivities, personality types, gists, or modus operandi that serve to explain how you roll. Pitta, kapha, and vata correspond roughly to fire, earth, and air. Everyone with me?
My son, 9, is pitta, that is, a fire lord, dominant, prone to fits and flameouts, blame and recrimination. That's the neg. The positive is he's warm, heartfelt, impassioned, and generous in lighting the world with his glowing which is as beautiful a red-orange as saffron tea.
I'm vata, extremely. My heart is in my head. I'm windswept, uneasy, and find rules, systems, plans, and unmutable things absolutely maddening. I will wail against a door until it's opened, or I can wail no more. Why? what I am always asking. Why? I am the perfect thing though, for a sail. For momentum.
Do you see where this is going? Fire and air? I'm going to outside the cafe next to the dentist's this morning where my son accidentally dropped a blueberry muffin and jumped off the deep end into an explosive rage and threw the muffin (as I was trying to clean it off with my cuff) across a parking lot while I stood there like a storm front gaping and shaming, asking Why? What the fuck?
Fire and air fan each other. This is good when we're doing good things together. Otherwise, we can denude a forest with our flaming jumping crackling shifting forward edge. Air feeds fire. Fire eats up air.
Ayurveda suggests that I need to oil my feet in the evening and stand on the ground in my bare feet, to balance me out in the yoga pose called the Tree which is how I plan to make it through the next ten years, in tadasana. Constant tadasana.