I sat down the morning of the first Moon Day (moon day means no
yoga practise because the moon is full, or new. Or making lots of water in our
bodies, or something) of the trip. Sat at the Microwave Desk with my first proper cup of coffee after a week
experimenting with a variety of strainers, coffee makers and cowboy techniques,
taught by my coffee guru and camping buddy, Kasia.
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| Microwave Desk |
Things are starting to feel normal here in downtown Gokulum.
I listened to a favourite podcast Saturday Morning Extra by Geraldine
McDouge an intelligent, thoughtful broadcaster. Inspired by the quality of her content I thought: Right. I’m going to write
something meaningful today. Not just about my experiences travelling and yoga and
observations. No. I’m going to write something different
that will sum up things without any straining. Lower your expectations,
people. Lower. Much lower.
This is for my girlfriend Michelle in Sydney. She has
been hanging out for the ‘Poo Post’. Because she’s a newish mum, she has plenty
of current experience with boisterous bum behaviour. Alas, Shell, there has
been little farting going on in this Indian shala as far as I can tell; I may
just be out of harm’s way. But a hell of a lot of body fluids are being shed.
It’s a sweat fest. I cannot understand how some people remain dry after
practising in that room. It astounds me, when sweat is
literally dripping into my eyes off my legs in shoulder stand.
When you are so busy 'going in', sometimes you forget that there are things that want to come out, like heat, sweat and hot-air. Farting is the great leveller in a yoga class, a test on
whether you are concentrating or not and also a bit funny, whether you are the
farter or the fartee. I have been both, I’ll admit but the skill is in carrying
on like it wasn’t you. This is called the Fart? What Fart? manoeuvre where if
you can just create just enough doubt among your neighbors
within earshot that it came from your direction you can just get on with your practise. It's more about self deception than deceiving others so rarely works but is the last
fallback before the Apology manoeuvre which you never really want to resort to as it disturbs the breath count, the poo prana and the general bum zen. It’s better to own it with attitude, than to apologise for it, in my humble view.
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From my shallow and fairly loose research a fart is the result of a
complicated series of gut reactions over a 24 - 48 hour period that reflects an
amazing working world of the stomach, processing and internalizing the outside
world via the food we eat, literally into each of our cells and organs. (A great metaphor
for a writer). A fart is no simple feat. It is the sounding
of a long process coming to its end, a public cry of release in a room full of
people, that says “Hey guys. Things are happening over here, finally the works are
relaxed enough for the next shift to start, and all the stretching and
breathing and letting go, is pretty rad. Til next time, ciao!”
I have a friend at home who is the greatest yoga
farter I know. So much so, that it’s gotten to the point where it’s almost like
his talkative bum is a whole separate being practising in the room. And his
farts stink and it’s a small room. So we have to stop and acknowledge it and groan in fake disgust. Then he
mutters what he had for dinner the night before (Musta been that pea and ham
soup…) which cracks me up even more because it’s just a bit wrong, when we are trying to be so serious and our
teacher is trying not to laugh and keep us all focused, but it’s funny. If you were offended, you’d be wasting your
time. The body left to it's own devices doesn’t give a shit what we think, pardon the pun, it has it’s
own delightful needs and knowledge and ability to let go. And the head is attached to it, is the
witness swivelling around like Carrie, whoosh, whoosh, oh-oh, reacting to others’ reactions. So it’s gotten to
the point now, where if you were new to the class you’d think, Holy cow, that
is just rude. But by now most of us just chuckle at the delightful human horror
and then hope there’s no more to come.
Having a happy bottom is an aim worth aspiring too. Eating
mainly vegetarian food here is normal, and wonderful because I could never copy
how they put it together, the food is soft, warm, mushy and full of flavour,
colour and vegetables. Perfect for digestive health. And my body has never been more regular, than
eating Laxmi’s home-cooked food daily. I
am loving not having to cook. My stomach
has decided India is it’s new love nest and is likely to stay on and marry all the people who have cooked for it, including this man and his crew who make the best sweets and weird yogurt and pistachio filled deep fried rice ball pastry things, for 50 cents. Yep 20 rupee, but only after 4pm. Guys, you've gotta get here. Masterchef is a SHAM.
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| Rice ball things called diaparu. Perfect for the poo post. |
If you are squeamish, or worried about toileting in Mysore,
India here’s the lowdown. It’ a fairly modern place all round if you are frequenting
the mainstream areas, which most western yogis are. If you are going to cafes and restaurants or
in your apartment (if it’s been built in the last 20 years) you don’t need to
squat over a hole, but if you are out visiting temples, attractions, markets
and going to toilets at public places then squatting and splashing yourself with
buckets of water and on the ground around you, is the way you do it. Toilet paper,
if available goes in the bin, not flushed due to old or just poor city plumbing.
There are hand held shower guns by some toilets to help wash away waste. People value but are not obsessed with
cleanliness, so lower expectations of housekeeping and bathroom cleaning
generally. Restaurant bathrooms seem purely functional spaces,
doubling as storage often, not places to show off interior design concepts like
at home.
So I hope you enjoyed the toilet post! It was only a matter
of time. If you are interested in gut heath and links to emotional and full
body well being, read ‘Guts’ by Giulia Enders, a very amusing and
insightful German science writer who actually did the research, into poo, pooing, and digestive organs. It is fascinating and strikes through a lot of our shame
about farting and pooing, reveals the biological truth behind phrases like ‘gut
reactions’ and ‘feeling it in my guts’… but please don’t tell my yoga buddy, he
doesn’t need any more encouragement. Bless him.
Here's a review: https://www.theguardian.com/books/2014/may/07/gut-reaction-book-digestive-tract-german-bestseller.
