Altered in India

Please be advised, the following contains mature subject matter. I think you all know that I am about as pro-LGBT rights as anyone you know. And I know what they say about - if you have to say that you’re not homophobic then you’re homophobic but I hope that I have dealt with what you’re about to read with the appropriate amount of sensitivity and just the right amount of irreverence. If you don’t think so I truly apologize but I feel I have. Read at your own discretion.

Ever had one of these babies? I had one early on in Marari and I just had two more in Varkala. I had hoped to take much more advantage of the cut-rate Indian pricing for these little gems throughout the trip but unfortunately I got ill. When I got really sick in China in 2002 it was after a particularly thorough massage in the Stone Forest. I always felt that the massage coincided with the bug and pushed it deep into my system. Again, not very scientific I know but I could almost feel it happening. So I’m a little leery about massage when I’m in a weakened physical state.

Anyway the two massages in Varkala were amazing. I will now describe them in mind-numbing detail.

The first thing one notices about massage in India is the fact that only boys massage boys and girls, girls. It’s of course a cultural thing and while the idea of a man running his hands all over me is usually most distasteful, the benefits far outweigh the pre-conception. I am after all a mature, forward thinking, open-minded guy right? Hell, I’ve spent time at an Ashram. Who is more liberally suited than I to this experience?

And sure enough, I was stalwart and mature during the first massage in Marari. The concept of movement, regardless of the excessive thoroughness of this particular type of massage never crossed my mind without the salvation of a twinge of nausea.

The Varkala massages involved a little twist. There was not one but two masseuseum or masseuseii or whatever the hell the pluralized term for masseuse is. At first I was a little confused when my session started out with four men in the room. The Ayurvedic doctor was temporarily present to go over a few details but was soon on his way.

So apparently Indian modesty stops as soon as the genders become segregated. The doctor closed the door and upon the latch click of his exit one of the fellas informed me to drop trow right there while they watched. Again, being a confirmed metrosexual, I was buck-naked before you could say “broad-minded experiential opportunity”.

The next step was the application of the most ridiculously useless piece of apparel I’ve ever seen. This thing makes Tarzan’s loincloth look like certified safety gear. It’s a piece of cotton about 6” wide and 18” long, centered on four feet of string. This apparatus is tied around the waist with the cotton portion appropriately positioned then pulled up between the legs (tightly I might add in a soprano tone) and tucked into the back string, in an apparent attempt to provide a semblance of discretion.

I mean, after this what the hell does discretion mean? Really at this point what does anything mean? I have just disrobed in front of two guys and dressed up like I’m going to be on the Santa Claus float in the Pride Parade. This alone leaves me in realization that third dimensional reality is a construct I can no longer subscribe to. Thankfully after my Ashram experience I am fully aware that life on this linear plane truly exists only at this exact moment so instead of getting into some esoteric philosophical discussion with myself, I just jump at what’s next. See how I’ve changed.

The massage started with me upright in a chair. Only one of the dudes handled this aspect of the process while Dude Two stood stoically in the “at ease” posture up against the back wall. He did not deviate from this position for the twenty-minute initial phase of the massage.

Dude One begins with the drizzling of Ayurveda massage oil into my hair like it was balsamic vinegar in a fusion restaurant. He continued to grease me down until my hair was dripping oil and then the process finally commenced.

He proceeded to apply approximately ten different styles of head massage to my noggin. These included typical kneading, finger tapping, soft pinching, not so soft pinching, some sort of two-handed prayer position whacking that somehow made a flatulence sound and the karate chop to the brain routine. My biggest regret from the trip just occurred to me. That is that I didn’t immediately stop and demand to be taught how to make that flatulence sound. Think of the lost party opportunities.

The chair process continued as I mentioned for twenty minutes and included a really awesome neck, shoulder and face massage, only slowing long enough to re-supply the Crisco to the appropriate areas. Whenever his hands simultaneously ran off the shoulders, head or neck he would clap his hands together. There is obviously some significance to this but I failed to explore it.

Then it was up to the table. I can’t go on without mentioning the table. It’s this incredible ornately carved wood table. It could be of teak or rosewood but it’s got to be worth a Maharaja’s ransom. It is specifically designed for the Ayurveda process as it has been created with basins and channels in it to collect the excess of oil along with intelligently distributed drain holes for easy clean up. The Dudes must have thought I was one crazy tourist when I stopped the massage and made them show me the intricacies of the thing.

So I then found myself splayed face-up on the table wearing a cotton G-string that had now shifted and contorted and crept into areas never before discovered, rendering the discretionary aspects of the garment moot in a mere twenty minutes. Ahh when you’re livin the now, what the hey!

Dude Two regains access to the fray. The Dude’s two take up opposing positions, one to the left of me and one to the right. They begin with the lower hemisphere or as I like to refer to it; the South Pole. In tandem and in perfect synchronization they apply enough viscosity to prevent what I am sure would be third degree burns if the friction were left without lubrication.

No foreplay here. These two cats come at me like a couple of crazed dogs. Wow, what juxtaposition! They apply serious pressure from the tips of my toes through the foot, past the ankle and shin, over the knee, and finally circling the thigh until the direction changes and the whole stroke repeats itself about thirty times.

Now as they come in contact with the inner thigh they appear on a trajectory where there is no way that they can slow themselves down or divert direction quick enough to ensure that there is no…how should I term this…collateral damage. The perfect analogy would be from Star Trek, when Jim has to use the slingshot effect around the sun in order to reverse time. Once committed there is no way for the Enterprise to change course.

I think I should note that I am fully aware that this post has taken on certain latency in its descriptive. I will just remind all concerned at this time, exactly who the author of said piece is and that any latent flair is strictly coincidence. Just a second…did I just use the word flair?

Anyway, back to the story.

Let’s move on to the frontal aspect of the Northern Hemisphere. Not too much to report here other than the four hands of gold continued to impress. They ran in a similar circular pattern up from the hips, over the six-pack washboard abdominal region (maybe we should for the time being refer to this as the six quart region of paneer and masala as I have continued to gorged my way through Southern India), through the solar plexus, over the pectoral muscles (I think I can still feel something there), onto the shoulder, down the arms and through to the tips of the fingers.

They pulled aggressively on each individual finger but having recently gained a certain level of enlightenment, I resisted playing the standard old joke on them.

It was time to be turned over and laid face down. Just a minute…I don’t think that came out quite right.

I could only guesstimate the current anatomical positioning of the swath of cotton. Having been jostled to and fro, this way and that, from here to there and coming and going - I’m pretty sure I could sense things had continued to move toward the deep end of the pool. I made an instantaneous determination and simple physics concured.

Now with the cotton carrying on like floss through a pair of molars it allowed for full exposure of the gluteus Maximus. I don’t quite get why but for some reason the idea of a full lunar eclipse came to mind. With another litre or two of 10W30 gratuitously applied, the legs were separated to about 12 degrees.

Please just take a moment to fully complete this mental picture. I sincerely apologize if you have just eaten.

I could tell immediately the moment this particular angle was chosen for pedal separation that we may soon be experiencing our most serious trajectory issue to date. Considering the spatial positioning of all items that come in pairs, I was becoming extremely concerned about what appeared to be a serious miscalculation that could possibly result in catastrophic collateral damage.

At the rate of speed these two worked I quickly tried to dredge up any formula involving mass and velocity before the particle accelerator of hands started to move. Believe me when I say this worry was not from a perspective of vanity but from one of sheer protection.

I was, in an instant, a wild animal running on pure instinct. As an icy sweat ran down my greasy forehead I could feel the collider begin to move. If I was to make an adjustment it was now or never. In the time it took to think this I realized I was too late and they were up to speed. It immediately became apparent that these two were clearly students of Einstein and mercifully my fears were allayed. The boys and me would live to fight another day!

The remainder of the massage was concentrated to the far less sensitive area of the back of the Northern Hemisphere. With no clear lines left to cross I could finally relax and enjoy the benefits of this ancient Southern Indian tradition.

Once the massage itself was complete I had a steam bath to top the whole experience off. Not a steam bath like the ones we are used to, where a tiled room with benches has been constructed and you sit inside until the steam-creating device kicks in and fills the room until you no longer have any sense of where you are.

No this thing is totally different and I immediately remembered it from the cartoons. I can’t remember which one though. Although I was never a great fan it may have been the Jetson’s. I think George had for once done something right and Mr. Spacely had no choice but to invite him along to the spa. He would obviously do something there that would lead to disaster.

I could be wrong about the Jetson’s but I distinctly remember affluent men in one particular cartoon being at a spa and eventually finding themselves in one of these devices. If I remember correctly they were smoking cigars, a sure sign of success and prosperity in the 60’s, while enjoying their hard earned respite from the rigor’s of corporate life.

This contraption is a large box that has doors that open up. You climb inside the thing and sit on a bench. Then it closes in all around you leaving just your head exposed through a hole in the top. A towel is wrapped around your neck to block any excess space in the opening.

Although I kind of snickered when I saw it only because I recognized what it was, it’s a really effective device. Ten to fifteen minutes in this and the sweat was streaming out of my pores cutting through the now litres of oil that had been dumped on me.

It was then off to the shower room. Modesty here was still at a premium as I was walked there and all the necessary toiletries were pointed out to me. I was watched for a while till the showering process was proceeding just in case they had left me without something necessary.

It just dawned on me but I can’t believe that I have not described the typical Indian shower to this point. Although hotels have standard North American showers in as much as there is a showerhead coming from the ceiling or high up on the wall directed into a totally tiled washroom. Typically though, a shower in India consists of a large bucket of water, larger than your typical household pail and a smaller two to three cup scoop. These two devices are in every bathroom in India. The large pail is filled with water from a tap in the wall. Then the scoop is used to pour the water efficiently over your parts.

Finally someone has found a simple and effective way to use the non-renewable resource, water. Unlike here in NA where we will typically adjust the ceiling mounted device to just this side of hot enough to boil an egg and then stand underneath the thing for fifteen minutes while wasted gallons of water gush unimpeded over our dimpled white skin.

Anyway, $25 Canadian for probably the best massage I’ve had in my life and another great cultural experience.  Time has run down and I’m really going to miss having the opportunity to have fun while being taken so far out of my usual narrow box.

I should mention that Suzanne and I arrived home early yesterday.  We’re dealing with the last bits of jet-lag.  I will have a couple more posts to make in the next few days just to finish things off properly.

Arghhhhhh!

It’s our last full day in India.  Well that’s not exactly true as we are technically in the country for another day but during which we will be flying to Bangalore and staying at an airport hotel until we rise at midnight to catch a 3 am flight home. 

The airport is about 45 km out of Bangalore.  That’s a solid 1.5-hour taxi ride in traffic and there is always traffic.  The idea of fighting the traffic for 3 hours to tour around a city with very little to see is not that appealing to us at this point, so we’ll just waste the day away at the hotel.  Hopefully we’ll actually get some sleep before the flight.

We are taking advantage of our last true day in Varkala and spending it on the beach.  I can’t do beaches like I used to but for our last day it’s perfect.  It’s another perfect day in Kerala, low to mid 30’s, wall-to-wall sunshine and a gentle breeze.

The beach in Varkala is about 100 feet below the cliffs and runs for a few kilometers. There is a North Cliff and a South Cliff.  There are a few switchback staircases that take you down to the beach.  Along the cliff-top there is a boardwalk that runs parallel to the sea with an array of the usual trinket shops and restaurants.

The beach is really the best one we’ve been to here in Kerala for a number of reasons.  The amenities are sophisticated by Indian standards, meaning there are a number of washrooms available on the cliff.  The water is crystal clear and turquoise and the beach is fine beige sand.  The surf is strong but swimmable, not nearly as turbulent as Kovalem down the coast.

There are deteriorated umbrellas and chairs for rent here.  I see that most people will lie directly on their towel on the sand.  I also see there are a number of canine sun worshipers prancing about.  The idea of lying directly on a beach where parasite bearing critters roam free brings back the emotional scars and itchy memories of my cutaneous larval migran episode from St. Lucia last year.  Rickety or not I will always opt for a chair on a public beach over the off chance of becoming an uncharted homeland for a family of nematodes.

We’re staying at a really quaint little twelve-room hotel with a great little pool and an on-site ayurvedic centre.  It’s about a 400-metre walk to the cliffs.  It’s really clean and well looked after with a small restaurant that, as usual, serves exceptional food.  It’s been an amazing experiment tripping around this place.  Without fail, regardless of the look of the place, all the food we have been served has been great.  Some better than others of course, but we have not had a truly bad culinary experience.

To get from the hotel to the cliffs you must maneuver a labyrinth of narrow roads and pathways.  This was arduous the first time but every once in a while we forget we’re in India.  The typical conventions that we came here bearing usually don’t apply.  It soon dawned on us that you can walk through the front gate of any hotel or restaurant you come upon and gain access to the cliff.  You can also sit down and order a meal, get a massage or have a beer for that matter.  There is no thought given here to exclusivity.  These guys don’t care whose pocket the next rupee comes from so long as it comes.

Varkala offers something else that has been truly lacking almost everywhere else we’ve been.  As you may know, I’m a wee bit of a coffee snob.  You would immediately think, as I did, that a coffee producing country would also be a place to take said locally produced raw material and turn it into something worthy of slow savouring whilst one enjoys the early morning comings and goings of whatever surrounding one happens to find oneself in.  But no, so far my experience has shown the usual preparation to be about one third weakly blended liquid, reputed to be coffee, dumped into a large decanter and then topped up with hot milk.  For all I know the base material could be…dare I say it…instant!

Thankfully Varkala has reaffirmed my belief that Kerala could indeed be paradise. The indiscriminate garbage throwing issue notwithstanding of course.  There are a number of restaurants boldly displaying their espresso machines and appropriately advertising coffee in all its rightful forms. 

I can now truly move in!

As mentioned these are lovely huge cottages carved into the forest along a small river in the middle of a 130-acre rubber plantation.  Absolute serenity!

Well that is until nightfall when the red ants invaded and the cockroaches started to fall from the sky.  Though even as gross as this sounds, it’s India and we’re in the heart of a virtual jungle.  So I guess these things should be expected.

We will be here just under 48 hours in total.  When we checked in there were only two other humans here with us; two German women.

We’ve had the House Man E.A. almost to ourselves for two days.  Last night when the ants came marching home he came over with the yoga Master and a couple of cans of bug killing uranium 235.

After the fallout was cleaned up and the Geiger counter and Tyvec suits put away, he and the yoga master, Suzanne and I sat out on the balcony and chatted for about 45 minutes.  The yoga master is a Buddhist and very much interested in spiritual healing.  So when he found out that we had been to the Ashram and that Suzanne had been initiated as a healer he was quite comfortable to sit back and pick our brains.  It was just one of those moments you know, totally impromptu but meant to happen.

We were up this morning at 6:30 am for a 7:00 yoga session with him.  There was just Suzanne and I and Agnes, one of the German women.  You know there really is nothing I enjoy more than this kind of attention in a yoga class, not!  My usual MO is to make sure the class is large enough to stake out a spot that I assume leaves me invisible.  Today this was impossible.

You should have seen the Master’s face when he realized that I was not joking about being that inflexible from the waist down.  Priceless!

E.A. took Suzanne and I for a tour of the plantation after breakfast this morning.  The plantation was started eighty years ago and there are now 250,000 rubber trees.  They have their own rubber manufacturing facility on the grounds and guess what?  You’re about to get a lesson in the harvesting and manufacture of natural rubber.  Are you excited?

I knew that natural rubber came from Rubber trees but that was about the extent of my knowledge.  Now I’m virtually a vulcanized expert.

The trees are actually tapped in much the same way they are for the collection of sap for maple syrup in our neck of the woods.  The milk, it’s a white liquid, is collected everyday and brought to the facility for processing.  The milk runs out of the tree along a spiral groove that is cut into the trunk.  If left alone it will harden to be just like white silicon caulking. 

It is then mixed with water and ammonia and left to settle and cure in tin trays.  After a few days this rubberized block is remove from the trays and pushed through a press.  This turns it into a perforated sheet of rubber about 2’x3’.  These sheets are left in tubs of water overnight.  The next day these sheets are taken and laid over bamboo poles and then hung in a silo-like smoke house.  The rubber is actually smoked.  This protects its integrity and doesn’t allow it to degrade.  These smoked sheets are then gathered into bales and shipped for use in the manufacture of whatever final product.

Vehicle tires still use a certain percentage of natural rubber so apparently naturally produced rubber is still a viable business.

The Lodge is nearly self-sufficient.  Almost everything they serve they grow here.  During the tour we came across the following (in no particular order):  Cardamom, pepper, ginger, Indian coriander, nutmeg, cloves, Indian and Brazilian coffee, vanilla, a host of ayurvedic medicinal plants, sugar cane, banana, plantain, guava, mango, mandarin oranges, cinnamon, jack fruit, honey from their own bees, cocoa, All Spice, lentils, carrots, cauliflower, potato, chilies, cucumber and palm nuts.  I’m sure there was more that I missed.

Oddly enough our second night at the Lodge was completely bug free.  E.A. figured that the family that was in the room before us must have spilled something that attracted our little friends.  Thankfully after our experience of the first night the staff came in and did a very thorough cleaning.  I was growing tired of sleeping with one eye open.  Whatever they did worked and it was a peaceful night. 

By noon we were on the road out of the forest and headed toward Varkala Beach, our last stop on the journey.

I think it’s high time I put my two cents in. 

For me, the ashram experience was very intense, often challenging and deeply satisfying.  It’s what I signed up for; to do a mental, emotional and physical detox “a la India” and I got that in spades.  I also came to find a new energy, which I’m thrilled to report, is now a part of me.  More on that later….I am able to better manage “the thoughts per minute” and actually suspend thought at will.  For me, it’s like clearing a highway of a traffic jam.  Clear the mind and higher consciousness follows.

Of course it’s an ongoing process but I feel much lighter and for the most part worry free.  When some heavy emotion or thought does come up I can now better deal with it by using the “silent witness” and blast it out quickly!  The whole process is highly experiential so descriptions and insights cannot truly convey the experience.  Suffice to say we covered fears, relationships, health, wealth, desires etc.  

To summarize there was a lot of introspection via discussions, group work, meditations (including Kriyas – a combination of breathing and postures), yoga, swimming, etc.   In addition, there was a highly mystical element including Swamiji “energizing” the group as a whole as well as one on one each day.  You could not help but gain  higher consciousness and let go of a lot of stuff that does not serve you.  I realized that all too oftn fears and patterns are living your life and  not you at all.  How do you know?  Are you involve in productive and fulfilling activities that constantly expand you – is a good starting point.

Many participants were struggling with health issues.  There was the self-medicating group, who try to feel bliss or a semblance of contentment by smoking, drinking or using a drug of choice, often the trusty pharmaceutical.   Physical aliments included epilepsy, diabetes, obesity, heart conditions, arthritis, etc. Depression, anxiety and worry were also very common mental afflictions.   The rest of the group was happy-go-lucky.  Actually I met some awesome people with the Malaysian delegation being particularly charming. 

If someone wanted or needed special attention, Swamaji would provide it and he always responded with compassion to the grocery list of issues.  

All those that I spoke to were feeling much better by the end of the session.  Yes, they were demanding and at times the emotions were “a flyin” – for me it exemplified that most individuals are “hurtin units”.   The good news is that we are meant to live a life of bliss here on earth!  And It’s okay that we’re a little behind schedule…    

I realized I was too dependent on the TGIF and related beverages of choice.  I also have a new understanding of the benefits of a vegan diet, yoga and meditation.  So yes Michelle, your  worse fears are now a beality.  I no longer drink and enjoy a strict vegan diet.   On the plus side, I feel great!  Bonus points, I dropped 5 pounds to boot.

So here comes the “weird” part for some of you (others will simply see it as a natural progression).  I have been initiated as a Nithya healer.  This means that I can channel energy and assist in healing anyone who has an open mind and believes in a higher presence (regardless of what form this presence takes). This includes physical, emotional and/or psychological problems.  A little faith goes a long way! 

So if anyone is interested I’m available, free of charge.  I totally get that some of you may roll your eyes and as Jerry would say, be concerned that “I drank the Koolaid”.  No worries, I am more than willing to take a stand and take action in any way I can to serve the ocean of people who are in need and open to spiritual healing.   

The testimonials of people cured from illnesses such as cancer,  diabetes and chronic pain are numerous and compelling.   Personally, I asked Swamiji to heal my chronic pain/cramps that I experienced during my period.  One energy dose and voila GONE, ZAPPED AWAY, SARANARA BABY!  I had been living with this pain for at least seven years and have taken all the natural and pharmaceuticals available with only marginal success.  Now I have experienced first hand the effectiveness of this healing technique. 

For me, it’s using largely untapped ancient wisdom and conscious meditation to access only the purest divine energy and it’s awesome!   I have tried other modalities but nothing comes close to this.  Many participants had at some point   used other energy techniques and no longer use it due to mixed results and according to them, lack of effectiveness.  To each his own.  Take what you want and leave the rest.

The other amazing part is how I managed to function and feel energized with an average of about four hours of sleep a night, including an all night meditation extravaganza.  Let’s be clear, I’m normally in need of at least 6 to 7 hours a night, preferably 8.  However, with a super healthy diet, exercise and meditation we were all far more productive and had energy to burn.  Granted a happy medium would be a solid 6 hours of sleep but it’s good to know I can function consistently with less.

My last comment is about the Swam-mister himself.  Nithyananda is said to be an Avatar, call him what you want.  He is a master at the redistribution of wealth.  The profits from the Inner Awakening program are used for multiple projects including hospitals, education programs, infrastructure for free healing etc. For me, what’s important is that he is brilliant, endlessly compassionate and lives each day with the joy and bliss of a super happy kid.  Sounds good to me!

It’s been awesome and another week of relaxation in this warm clime is what I need to integrate all this new stuff.    I also look forward to hauling my semi-enlightened carcass back home.  Miss ya’ll .

Suzanne

We are at the coolest place. We have driven 50 km from Trivandrum into the Western Ghats to a town called Anapara. Anapara is on the edge of the Peppara Wildlife Sanctuary, almost at the Tamil Nadu border. I should mention that there was a leopard sighting here a few days ago.

Once you are out of Anapara a couple of kilometers, you turn off the main road onto a dirt path that vaguely resembles our road at home except for the fact that it’s in far better condition. You follow this road till it ends and there in the middle of the forest amongst a 130-acre rubber plantation is the Duke Forest Lodge.

This place is spectacular. We have one of the private cottages. I’m sitting upstairs on the balcony typing this right now surrounded by foliage and peace and quiet. The air is crisp and clear without a hint of any of the usual pollution I associate with India. The sun is beaming and whenever I get hot, I’ll just scuttle down the spiral staircase to the private dunk pool that each of the cottages have. We only have four more nights in India and this is the perfect place to spend two of them.

The Internet service here was knocked out by a thunderstorm last week so I won’t be able to post until we get to Varkala but this is the ideal place for me to pretend I’m a writer. So I may put together a whole bunch of really verbose pieces while we’re here so I apologize in advance. It’s not my fault. Really you have to see this place to understand.

Okay enough of that for now. Let’s get to the sensational Ashram antics that I mentioned above.

Please understand that this comes with a warning of reality based toilet humour. Children under the age of 101 should read warily and please, be prepared to be grossed-out at any time.

I mentioned in an earlier blog that our schedule at the Ashram was extremely tight and that first thing in the morning we had some related hygiene issues that had to be attended to. Well now that I have a little space between then and now, I feel compelled to share these procedures with you for your reading pleasure. I only do this because basically when you melt me down, I’m all about the experiences and these are truly experiential moments in the life of your basic first time Ashramer. Plus I’m a really sick puppy and if I had to go through it you’re going to hear about it. I should note that you will not find these steps anywhere in the Ashram promotional material.

Procedure 1

This one at first sounded a little horrific. It was not my first experience but the idea of doing it everyday was a little daunting. At the time I had no idea what was to follow. Each and everyday started off with a two-round enema. This got the day off on a cleansing note to be sure.

I think we all understand this procedure and to describe it in minute detail would be gratuitously sensational and would cross a line even for me. I will just mention (even though it’s far too much information) that I’ve really become a proponent of the enema as a kick-off to the day. It just seems to be the perfect way to level the physical playing field. Or maybe that’s just me because I’m so naturally full of it.

Procedure 2

Next on the list was another process that will stay with me. Maybe you’ve seen this little device. It’s a small plastic reservoir with a handle on it. You fill it with water and then plug it into the eye socket and turn your face up. Keeping your eye open you blink and roll your eye side to side about ten times each. Then obviously repeat with the other eye. This cleanses the eye and also helps to cool down the internal temperature of the body. Cooling the internal temperature is extremely important at all times let alone when you are putting yourself through an emotional wringer.

Procedure 3

The third torture device I have also brought along with me. This one looks to be a small plastic teapot. The end of the spout is designed to plug into but not penetrate the nostril. The pot is filled with water and a pinch of sea salt. Once the salt is dissolved it is plugged into one of the nostrils. If it’s plugged into the right nostril the head is then swiveled to the left side.

The key to this technique is to ensure you breath from your mouth throughout the process. Breathing through your nose at any time will leave you with more than enough to sneeze at. Once the head is appropriately swiveled the water runs from the right nostril fills the nasal cavity and then drains from the left nostril. This allows for clean and clear nasal passages and free breathing for meditation and kriya.

Procedure 4

This device definitely did not find its way into my homebound luggage. I’m a pretty adventurous customer and physically resilient too. Ask anyone who has travelled with me to exotic locales before. If we’ve needed someone to taste test the yak testicle or the deep-fried cockroaches it was usually left to me to give the thumbs up or down. (BTW – if you ever get the chance, a big thumbs up on both these delicacies).

This device though is the sickest, vilest contraption known to man and can now reduce me to a quivering mass just by the mere sight of it. This I am sure has to have been the work of The Inquisition and they obviously had their top designer on the project.

It consists of two small rubber hoses about 1/16” in diameter and about 12” long, each with a male and a female end. The process starts by inserting the smaller male end up the right nostril. You continue to push it until you feel it at the back of the throat. At this point you merely swallow it down ensuring you keep about an inch dangling from your nostril. I’m not making this up!

Then you take the second one and insert the larger female end into your left nostril. The nasal opening on the left side is larger than on the right. Who knew? You follow the same procedure until you are left looking at yourself in the mirror with rubber hoses protruding from both nostrils. Now it gets interesting.

So you have a male and a female end in front of you. You plug these two together so that now it looks like you’re wearing a rubber bull nose ring. Here’s the best part and when I say best I mean worst. You take your index and middle finger and jam them down your throat in search of the two strands of rubber left down there. Once you’ve gotten over the inevitable manifestation of the gag reflex and you locate the two rubber demons, you then pull them out of your mouth.

So now you have the nose ring sticking out of the nose and once you attach the male and female ends coming out of your mouth you then have one continuous rubber line running through your nasal system. Sweet huh? Then you do the only thing that you can think makes sense when you find yourself in this position. You start to pull the line in a single direction bringing along anything that it might encounter on the journey.

Rubber appears to be something like a magnet to mucus; it’s really quite astounding. You then reverse the direction before you come to your senses and realize what exactly it is you’re doing to yourself. Once completed you disengage the two pieces and simply yank them out.

I’ve experienced my share of nasty medical procedures. Nothing comes close on the outlandishly disgusting meter to this insanity. I still can’t believe that I completed it almost everyday. There were days when I was ill that I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

The weird thing…er I mean the weirder thing about it is, that once the eyes dried up and all of the sneezing sensations had dissipated, it did feel really good to be so…uhhh…empty?

I can’t understand why they don’t put this stuff in the promo literature.