Take your medicine and quit complaining

Once, when I was 7 I got sick with a cold and my parents decided to treat me themselves, old school style, being the skilled physicians they were. The remedy entailed boilingup a bunch of homemade red wine, forcing me to drink it, wrapping me in cotton sheets and many blankets and waiting for me to sweat out my sickness.

My mother had to keep changing my pajamas and cotton sheets when I began to perspire and the red wine worked it's magic out of every pore of my being. I remember being delirious, possibly even delusional. I had visions like people do when they go to the desert and try acid or peyote. I was definitely drunk.

Since my parents aren't here to help me out - (Have I relayed the conversation that ensued when I said I was going to travel to the subcontinent? "India? Madonna! INDIA? Ma per che? PER CHE? Ma chi ti mette questi pensieri dentra a teste?" Translation: India? Mother of God! INDIA? But why? WHY? But who puts these ideas in your head?") - I have taken matters in to my own hands and purchased some cough syrup (*Note to john & sylvia: If this doesn't work I'll go to a doctor/hospital, I promise)

So I took my Extra Strength PANJON Cough Syrup last night before retiring to sleep, and it seemed like I proceeded to cough more than ever. (Hard to say for sure though, I've been coughing so long I think I'm starting to sound like Leonard Cohen. Make that Leonard Cohen with tuberculosis)

Here the funny thing to me, the warning on the label of this bottle says that the medication may cause drowsiness and patients should not drive vehicles or operate machinery for 4 to 6 hours after taking the last dose.

From what I've seen of the driving here, the cough syrup is not going to affect anyone's motor skills in a negative capacity.

The part that I'm wondering about is "machinery". Does this medicine manufacturer even know where they are? Or are they testing the lab samples themselves? What machinery? The closest thing I've seen to machinery here is the juicer our hotel has in the courtyard.

When we arrived in Kolkata, on the drive from the airport, I saw there was a part of the main road that was being constructed or possibly even repaired - at 10 p.m. at night. When I say repaired I mean there were 'MEN AT WORK'- right in the middle of the road, busting rocks. Sure, there was a sign indicating cars should slow down (ha ha, that's a good one) as this medley of traffic went around many men squatting and banging on rocks, breaking them with a small, hand-held sledgehammer. There were no bulldozers, crane operators or backhoe excavators in sight. I didn't see anyone wearing a helmet or a reflective orange jacket. I was concerned, wondering "Is this how they do construction work here? But they could easily get hurt or maimed!" and then I was distracted by fearing for my own life as it appeared I had somehow ended up in the Formula One Race for cabs needing to get to hotels.

In Bodhgaya, I saw men and boys balancing enormous bowls of cement and gravel on their heads, or sometimes a pile of bricks, climbing up stairs and down stairs, refilling the bowls, grabbing more bricks, again and again and again, to construct new ghats.

Then there are the women working in the countryside, I've seen them from the train, sparkling bright saris in the sun, moving these giant bundles of the field crop around, on their heads.

Machinery here is just the human body.

So I think I'll just take my syrup and stay quiet. It's not that bad, after all.

One more thing, I had a bunch of strange dreams the other night (I had lots at the Ashram, which is a Buddhafield place, so the energy would be conducive, but wasn't expecting anything outside of that enviroment) but all I can remember from the other night is a 2 second dream where I was sitting across from an Indian woman who asked me one question, in a very straightforward manner:

"Are you tolerant?"

That's the only dream I remembered when I woke up. I'm certain it was inspired by losing my temper at the teenage girl who grabbed my hands and wouldn't let go of me, all the while yelling "photo! photo! biscuit!" I tried to shake her loose saying "Namaste" a few times but then I finally hollered "LET GO!"

If Holly is reading this, she'll also remember how disturbed I was when I yelled at the kids at the Rikhia Peeth Ashram, the boys who kept crowding the prasad table and trying to grab a few extra pieces. (Luckily, I missed being swarmed by 30 of them the next night - that occurred when Holly was standing there, guarding the prasad basket)

On my night I kept saying "move back, Ek prasad, Swamiji says ek prasad," and they kept shoving until I pushed them back forcibly and shouted "I SAID MOVE BACK!" Which only slowed them down momentarily. I felt terrible, yelling at impoverished kids, and of all things, as Rich noted "over a pack of sugar."

In the team Canada discussions afterwards, I heard about how other situations where handled in a similar manner at the other gate, and how each situation requires a specific action, and then it's done, it's over, you did the best you could, now you know for next time, let go, let it go.

Sure. You let go, is always my response. Let's see you do it then.

So far, I appear to have zero tolerance. Hence the dream. The good news is, it can only go up from there.