One of the downsides of being around kids, other than unintended truth bombs and occasional gastric malfunctions, is the tendency to catch things like colds and coughs. At least, I sincerely hope that a simple cold is responsible for my present feverish hallucinations of the preverbal creature I manifested during hepatitis and kept alive through sheer commitment. (“Hello Itit. So you’re back, huh? You look well. Angry, but well. What are you doing with the knife? Itit? Itit no! BAD ITIT!”)
The other explanation for my current fever (now on day 4) is somewhat crazier and involves a yoga class I went to a few days ago. It was taught by a woman named Topaz (I know, right?), the kind of person that looks like a mass of muscle was pounded into the shape of a humanoid. Her arms were ripped and her abs nonchalantly made appearances through her T-shirt as if that were a natural thing. (Don’t even get me started on her calves.)
I took the class because I thought it would be a nice way to begin the weekend - some simple stretching, a dash of meditation, maybe some self-discovery. It was to be my Ode to Spring (I often go through these little personal rituals that take their names from concertos) and nothing more than an hour of fun. At the end of that class I was a heaving emotional mess, and all four of my limbs had been stretched too far, so that when I walked I felt as if something hot had been lodged deep within me. Almost immediately I felt this toxic ache - I am not sure how else to describe it - erupt in my bloodstream. The next day I actually couldn’t get out of bed, literally, and was all hot and bothered. I had to roll onto my side and then pivot onto the floor in an acrobatic but ungraceful combination of side-shimmies and soft crying. The thing is, I think she warned the class about this at the beginning of the session, while I was trying to show off my toe-touching ability in an effort to demonstrate that I was not a dilettante who showed up once every three months but the originator of my own brand of yoga. She mentioned that some of the movements we would do may unlock parts of our bodies that haven’t been stretched in a while, and it would be normal to be sore or even ill in the next few days as the emotions that had been stored in those deep places made their way in the form of toxins out of your body.
The author is dealing with unforeseen consequences of some yoga positions
I have long believed that the body holds onto emotional toxins long after the mind stops dealing with them
Have you ever heard that theory before? Tarot-reading horoscope junkie that I am, I have long believed that the body holds onto emotional toxins long after the mind stops dealing with them. Most people feel it when they tense up in their neck and shoulders, perhaps even their back. These areas have long been associated with being the vessels of stress. But I hadn’t come across the idea that the body could have old traumas hidden deep in its muscles and joints, like old skeletons waiting to haunt you should you open the wrong door of your inner house. The more I research the topic (between visitations from Itit and episodes of Game of Thrones, I have a little time on my hands now) the more I find this is an old, even venerable idea. Indeed, much of Eastern medicine and the entirety of massage therapy is based on the idea of the so-called mind-body connection.
The Internet is slightly less helpful when you want to find out what it exactly means when your forearms, Achilles heels, groin and left armpit are all hurting at the same time. If you believe message boards, I have either been previously abducted by genies or am rediscovering some childhood trauma unbeknownst to me. My own suspicion is that I am dealing with one of my previous lives (I’m told I am on my ninth and final incarnation, like a cat that’s had too much fun). I keep getting these strong Mughal vibes during the last few hallucinations, so you never know.
As it always does, getting sick makes me think of home, and being away from a land of health insurance (I still don’t have any, my bad #obamadontcare) to a comfy place of homemade soups and hugs. Nothing makes you feel more alone than getting sick alone. Maybe the universe heard my thoughts and sent over a little present, because this week is a big Lahore week in NY.
Early on in the week Rashid Rana will be talking at the Museum of Modern Art about the Lahore Biennale Foundation, which promises to be lots of fun. I am particularly super-duper excited at the prospect of the LLF in New York this weekend! You heard right; the Lahore Literary Festival is coming to NYC at the Asia Society for a series of talks on Sunday. Who would have thought it! Having missed the Lahore event this year I am so happy to be able to see some semblance of it here, if only as a salve to my nostalgia. I will of course be writing to you about it next week so stay tuned. Also, my advice to you is that you get a therapist before your next yoga session. God knows what’ll come up when you stretch the right way.
