See, if I was really good I would have said that 'believing in yoga
enthusiasts is really a stretch", but that means I gotta relate a
story.

I was actually at a yoga retreat in Feb, for a solid week.  And me
never having done more than about four hours of yoga in my life.  Did
I mention I was in a foreign country and didn't particularly speak the
language?  Somehow, on day one or two, I injured my left index finger,
just bumped it somewhere, really, and a day or so later noticed
tenderness and then, subsequently, red streaks going up my arm.  The
exact same thing happened to me about fifteen years ago, moving a
small sofa, which resulted in much consternation and a shot of
anti-biotics and some pills just before I died.  

So there I was, this very Feb., with the very same thing (the very
same finger and arm, I believe), in a foreign land, dying.  I went to
the office (all 21st Century stories have offices), where about 80% of
the English speaking peoples spoke English.  I set up an appointment
to see a Costa Rican Doc (and transportation to get there) for about
six p.m. that day, and turned to go off into the extraoridinary
difference of the World with No Ceiling, only to run almost over top
of one of the head yoga ladies.  

She had concern for something in the air.

(I wrote the following for elsewhere back in March.)

I showed her my finger and its lovely attendent red streak and she
marvelled.  She looked me up and down and over, especially into my big
noble face.  She thought for about a tenth of a quarter of a nonce,
and then mumbled something about "... this may seem like witchcraft
but I assure you it's not... ", heh heh, and then after half a short
fitfull start in one direction, she spotted a chair right in the
middle of the office public space and directed me to sit in it while
telling me that she was going to "take my vital signs"!!!  

There was some gizmo on the counter next to the chair and I assumed it
was an electric thermometer or blood pressure gauge and so, reassured,
I sat.  I think it turned out to be a pager.

Next thing I knew the yoga lady was in front of me folding an ordinary
white paper napkin into a triangle, saying, "This may seem a little
strange but it really works".  She handed me the folded napkin and
told me to put some of my saliva on it, to rub it on my gums, and then
to stick it under my shirt into my bellybutton and hold it there.

                      !

If only some of you had been there to witness it.

Should I have run screaming?  Probably.  But then I would have missed
the rest.

I spit on the napkin and tucked it to my bellybutton.  I was then
instructed to drop my infected, slightly sore left arm straight down
by my leg as I sat.  She kneeled next to me and told me to resist her
(lateral) pull on my hurt arm.  She was going to do some tests first,
to get a feel for me.  She stated, "Yes!" and tried to pull my hand
away from the side of my leg.  I pulled back.  Then she intoned, "No!"
and pulled my hand away again, only a little harder.  "Yes!", little
pull.  "No!", big pull.  Okay.  Testing done.  Now we were down to the
real work.  She called, "Uninfected!" and gave a little pull.  I
manfully tried to be uninfected.  Then she called, "Infected!" and a
bigger pull.  I pulled back.  Several times she tested me.  Inside, I
was shaking my head like you wouldn't believe.  I was almost ready to
bolt.  But didn't.

I'm not sure exactly what happened next, wrapped as I was in wondering
just which rabbit hole I'd fallen down.  When I became concious again
the nice lady was making me put my hands on either side of my head ala
'The Scream', and was holding my own noggin for me as though I had a
major, major headache and she was the cure.  Then, alternately rapping
her knuckles first on the top of my head and then on my sternum,
mumbling what I can only call incantations, she finished my complete
embarassment.  Knuckles on my head.  Knuckles on my sternum.  Back and
forth while mumbling something.  At some point the napkin fell out of
my bellybutton, the attempted retrieval of which seemed to upset my
benefactor, and I was made to put my hands up again on the sides of my
noble head, while she rapped out her joy and misery on my flesh and
bone.  Strong medicine takes good time.

****

I managed (through no fault of my own) to escape the healer's clutches
and staggered out into the endless sunshine where I enjoyed a good
laugh or two and made it through the day (barely) an object of
curiosity in my own right.

Eventually I got shot with some anti-bio named after a horse (Eloquin?
I'll look it up.  See how my memory works, I have no idea why that E.
word reminds me of a horse.) which is another story in itself, but
involved a lovely high speed car ride up the mountain after all was
taken care of.  I even got a tetanus shot, just because I hadn't had
one in ungodly years.

The whole point being, my experience with yoga people is positive, but
not without its element of total WHACK, or whatever the kids are
saying these days (which apparently, isn't much.)  

Not wishing to, but leaving on that note...

<the end, not the end>

"Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me."
    --TSE

Changed my mind.  :-D  .  The phrase was called to mind (out of more
than habit), but in the verification I found I had it remembered
incorrectly, so wrongly, in fact, that I learned something new by
setting myself to rights, and other things both relevent (though not
observable) and pertinent.

Mike