"You may think of yourself as human, but 90 percent of the cells in your body are actually bacterial. That's 100 trillion microbes living on your skin, in your gut, up your nostril—any body surface you can think of. These bacteria aren't here to make you sick—not usually, at least—and scientists are just beginning to discover how our healthy bodies interact with them. Here are a few places where you'll find complex bacterial communities and their footprints." (click to see full)
That is why successful people trust their "gut feelings" and why so much constructive and healthy meditation happens at that CHAKRA behind the belly button. That's where you find the Captain Kirk of your Body, the SS BELLYPRISE...
Captains log indeed.
I propose that every time you move your bowels you are MAKING A REPORT to the OUR BACTERIAL OVERLORDS. Your report is then acted on by our Bacterial Overlords real boss, Mother Earth. She and the Sun have a kind of friendly rivalry about what our species will do in our time on the planet. The Sun is a big Dinosaur guy in that modern Dinosaurs still worship him as my backyard full of Iguanas do every day until one of my thrice-daily rock throwing rampages. The sun is ready to shoot out a big flare, crisp us all, and start over, but the Pentagon is mostly underground so the survivors will be an even more concetrated form of evil than the current bunch of surface dwellers. At least we have a few Angel Hogans, Frank Sherlocks, CA Conrads, Jacob Russels, Lillian Dunns and Sara Rose Etters running around on the surface taking care of getting things right on paper and inspiring us to greater cosmic dreaming. Healing souls, righting injustices, a team of literate superheros.
Here is the first face book report, there wil be more, you were warned.
I like writing to the small format face book message window and theoretically it is a first draft or jumping off point.
The Yucatan Peninsula is a very complicated state in which to poo. A survey done in 1974 in the state capital found that 80% of the popPOOlation lacked indoor plumbing and the winds were quite fragrant.
The first vexing detail is that toilet paper cannot be flushed on threat of pipe malfunction. So there are wastebaskets next to every bowl and if you are lucky they are relatively empty in the hot close air. It forces you to try to poo like a dog and develop a highly muscular "turd-cutter".
Another issue is the lack of toilet seats. That found me "saving it for work" or in the backyard with a shovel like some dirty hippy at a music festival. One explosive backyard moment soon changed my opinion RE pooing al fresco, and i was squatting over the sea tless bowl like modern club going women everywhere. There is an art to the squat, a zen, a zone. There is a fine line between the splash zone and just missing and if you happen to live in the place where you just missed, then you know my pain.