Once, twice…three times a poo blog

O sweet, smelly comrade of mine, ‘t has been long since we have conversed. For I have thought not of your sacred splendor in o so much time, and the way you simmer in my bowels waiting for my proclamation to the world of our true romance – O how I love to dump!

And nothing beats an airport dump – nothing!

It is not uncommon for us to see an airport dump as poo quite literally hitting the fan, however, how commonly does one truly visualize the sensual repercussions of such an occurrence? I speak of that speckled splatter of brown splendor being spewed in every direction, that glorious majesty of odorous weight being evacuated from your premises, that thunderous rocket of chocolate goodness blasting off in a way Armstrong couldn’t ever conceive – “one step for man, one giant leap for colons everywhere.”

For at an airport, one does not simply flirt with a casual excretion. Oh hells to the no - airport poos are everything one could ever want from an international journey and more. When you ‘go’ in the airport, you NEED to go! And what better love letter to one’s black hole than the cosmic excavations one endures to cleanse their colonic pallets at the explosive limits of their capacity. In other words, pooing when one is ‘bursting’ is akin to reading Shakespeare when one feels poetic – it is the epitome of that expression, just like pooing is the epitome of living. Why visit the pyramids when one can see the 8th wonder of the world poking its little face right out of one's toilet bowl everyday?

Now no poo blog is complete without the awkward transition to poignant life lessons derived from one’s stool:-

1. Although ‘going’ in public places may not be everyone’s ideal cup of tea, access to clean toilets when we really need to go is an unbelievable luxury we rarely think about. BILLIONS do not have this luxury.
2. Poo keeps us alive! If someone gave you a miracle drug that helped save your life, would you not cherish this medicine and its giver innumerately? So why then would we not cherish each plop, and frame its remnants for the immaculate work it does in purifying our bodies of harmful waste toxins?
3. Pooing brings people together. It’s something that every human being shares regardless of gender, religion, creed, politics etc. You poo. I poo. Trump poos. We all need to poo, and what better symbol of unity than a solid, healthy, phallic poop. So next time you meet a stranger and you’re struggling for small talk, why speak about the weather when you can bond over your bowel movements!

That’s it from me.  Until the next time I have my laptop in the toilet. Cheerio for now, and catch up on more faecal talk in poo blog 1 and poo blog 2.

Poo Blog 2: Poo Just Got Real!

Not too long ago, I went vegetarian and insinuated that the only question on peoples’ minds was how exuberantly magnificent a vegetarian’s bowel movements truly were. I attested to this stereotypical, yet naively understandable, enquiry in the most positive of affirmations.

If the world truly understood the utter divinity of a dump that clears one’s bowels the way the ocean waves clear the shore, world leaders would likely stop bombing countries for oil and start bombing their toilet seats.

Oh it has been a while since I have experienced the sensual slither of that great plutonic python of poo spouting out of the crater with a fervourous intensity that would bring the Vesuvian eruption to shame; alas, c’est la vie of the common fibre-deprived folk that I must live.

Right, so at this point I am just trying to make you uncomfortable; but rightfully so! How dare we conceal the greatest of joys in our life because society tells us that the natural process of our bodies filtering through our food and jetting out the remnants is somehow blame-worthy or cause for embarrassment? Is this not among the gravest of injustices and the greatest of ingratitudes? Do we realize the great honour, respect and dignity with which we should be addressing each phallus, each torpedo, each tree-trunk of chocolate firework that does us the immense privilege of firing out of our netherlands?

Nay, I shall be the zealot and rise against the oppression of societal suppression and cultural taboo; I shall be the restorer of fecal honour, the reviver of ordurous majesty!

Lesson #1 – poop is a lifesaver

I went on a spiritual retreat last weekend through acres of nature, hills, lakes, farmland; the whole shebang! Spotted across the greenery were little minstrels of pitch-black dropping, medium-sized pears of innocent brown turd, and large tetrahedrons of solid algae-coloured mash!

One thing they had in common? Revitalizing the world!!!

How could I not reflect over the wondrous properties of our dung as natural fertilizer? I have known this all along, but have I ever appreciated how truly self-sufficient our natural world is? The sun invigorates us, sustaining the plants which feed the animals, and then our waste and our bodies go back to this green Earth to become one with everything once more – the cycle of life. If not for man-made plastics and other pollutants, our world has the most intricate of mechanisms to ensure that every single bit of us; not the least of which is our poop; is used to create, sustain and nourish life!

Lesson #2 – poop is the solution to the energy crisis

Having just read this beautiful story of a village powered by poop, I couldn’t help but think that poo could be the solution to our global energy crisis!

The greenest form of energy known to man has been staring us straight in the butthole. With so much energy densely stored in each morsel of poo, the fragrant stench ain’t the only thing that packs a punch!

Lesson #3 – poop is the cure to our biggest downfall

Arrogance; the reason for every bad decision since the inception of time!

How can any one human claim to be superior to another in race, class, gender, wealth or status when NO MATTER WHAT, you will ultimately feel utterly incapacitated until you are forced to sit in a position that you would never want to be seen in, doing the deed that you want no one to know you have done. Primordial human necessity; and just like that, man who considers himself so high is made an utter slave to the whims of nature where he arguably stoops so low!

In fact, we ARE nothing more than poo that will one day be broken down by the earth and chewed up by cows and grasshoppers. Tell that to the next person who sticks their nose up in superiority!

Oh poo, we're coming to the end, aren't we?

So there you have it. 3 more vital lessons we must all take from poo. In a world where we are increasingly disconnected from nature, let us never forget the miraculous nature of that which swirls in the water beneath us, or soils the soil all around.

“You’ve gotta poop like there’s nobody watching, poo like you’ll never be hurt, poo like there’s nobody listening, and poo like it’s heaven on earth.” William W. Purkey

Sunrise of the Hejaz

I see the birds stretch their vast wings to the sky;

directionless, disordely, chaotic.
The melody of their chants anything but harmonic;
a unison of scattered moths

piercing through the Hejazi sunrise,
riding the zephyr till the midday sun overtakes;
but what can overtake
in a moment defined by serenity, intrinsically tranquil?

The disorder before, between and ahead is naught but juxtaposition
of simplicity and extravagance;
of guidance and aimless wandering;
of youthfully zealous voices echoing to scream over each other as 12 brothers fight for their father's affection; neither hither nor thither.

A moment of clarity,a dilemma!

The moon is contemplating whether to pack up and leave; its rays
drizzling speckles of illumination on a winding crossroads that winds neither West nor South,
but what can overtake.

and only as the birds resolve in their flight and coalesce with the winds of change
does their song pierce the heart and the skies become light
and the anxious Hejazi sun
takes stage right as all purpose becomes clear yet again.

The Poo Blog

…so poo – it’s a thing.

Nope, that pink elephant in the room ain’t blending into the walls. We are going to address this majestic creature and her avuncular excrement once and for all!

Poo; crap; shit; faeces; excrement; doo-doo; the brown python; the thrilla from manila; loose motions; chocolate log; bowels on fire; poking turtle’s head; turd; faecal tart; and my favourite of all, King Kong’s finger.

Phew, all this talk about poo has gotten me in the mood for some frozen yoghurt (long story).

So I’ve been vegetarian for a while now. Sure, it’s been great, and challenging, and an emotional rollercoaster, and all that poo-flavoured balderdash, but let’s cut the crap, and smell the daal-speckled pungency. No vegetarian account is worth anything, if one’s bowel movements aren’t rigorously analysed. I understand what the people want, and no taboo is going to stop me declaring my faecal experiences to the world.

Veggies have fibre. Fibre makes you poo…won’t being vegetarian just…make you poo a lot?

The answer to that question is, quite frankly, yes….a resoundingly glorious yes! 

Vegetarianism is to one’s colon, what Caesarian military rule was to Pontus – it comes, it sees, and you can be sure of one thing; it bloody well conquers! It is as if an invisible set of hands is pushing down on your colonic tubes, like a fat kid trying to squeeze every last bit of cookie dough out of the tube – your large intestine is swiped clean!

It has been said that the act of defecation is one of relaxation at times – ok, who are we kidding – everyone loves a good, ol’ fashioned poo. It’s flippin’ fantastic! But as with all great things, there are great lessons to be learnt. After all, it was Uncle Ben who said, “with great bowel movements, comes great responsibility.”

*cue ‘How to Save a Life’*

Not everyone can poo. In fact, one of the hardest tests people have to go through in my opinion is not being able to relieve oneself of one’s own waste. Everything from urinary infections, to paralysis of the sphincter muscles – how often do we relieve ourselves, and then really express our gratitude for the ability to do so? Lesson number 1

I am grateful that my bowel movements have been superb. I’ve aced the Bristol Stool Chart, but my vegetarian diet has consisted of the finest quality things on offer to a casual vegetarian. I have been eating fresh vegetables, fancy quorn meals, bean burgers, veggie curries, different desserts. I have been paying as much, if not more, on my veggie diet than I would have on a fully meat diet. The ultimate truth is though, that many people around the world are vegetarian out of necessity, and many of these people will not be able to uphold a healthy, balanced vegetarian diet. Whether I’m eating vegetables, or animals, I need to realise that due to my situational privilege, I am eating better than most in the world. Lesson number 2

I have learnt that one can change in their own skin completely. For example, how many of us hated certain foods when we were younger, and now crave those same dishes all the time? I could never imagine a day without meat, let alone 45. The body is capable of doing anything, and we need to get off our crappers and use this adaptability to its full advantage. Lesson 3

So there you have it. 3 insights I have gained from poo over the last month and a half. I pray that we can continue learning valuable life lessons from our excrement. After all, Churchill did once say, “there is no increment, without excrement!”

Age is Just a Number #ageapartheid

Age...

What on earth is age? A measure of how many times the earth has rotated around the sun since one has been alive?

I mean, sure, it is a convenient measure of quantifying time. But why have we chosen to standardise our laws, and interactions, based on this grouping of 365 times the earth rotates around its axis before completing one revolution around the splendid sun?

Speak English, Francis

So marriage age; driving age; legal age for drinking; age before which one can be prosecuted. These are immensely important, and yet we choose an arbitrary number as if this has the same effect on everyone.

What about age groupings? People are entered into various educational levels depending on how long they have lived. This must follow the assumption that one’s biological brain development is largely proportional to the time one has been alive. Is it convenient? Sure it is, but I don’t understand how practical, accurate or effective it is. In fact, in the context of education, I think this is remarkably problematic.

Different minds work well with different things. In school, I would finish our assigned Maths problems within minutes of the class, and wait around doing nothing until the class ended; whereas, remembering dates and events in History class would take me far longer than the average student. I was dumbed down by not being upgraded in Science classes, whilst the humanities students were dumbed down waiting for me. But surely we had to be in the same class; we were the same age! It is even more problematic that so much research has been done showing the harms of ‘age grading’ and yet it continues to be the standard in education.

I was a 10 year old who towered over my contemporaries vertically and horizontally. I grew a mustache before many (Pakistani genes: awkward pubescent phase hits right at birth). Many girls developed breasts, and went through puberty at very different times, leading to so many self esteem problems, and unnecessary psychological issues; yet, they were the same age; surely they must all Have developed at the same time. Why did the fact that we had lived the same number of bundles of 365 days, qualify us for the same treatment in the eyes of the law, educational system, and society?

Nurture most definitely plays a grand part in one’s personal development. Whether we use a fluffy term like ‘emotional maturity’, or something more concrete like ‘experience’, a 6 year old in Dagenham will be of a very different age to a 6 year old in the tribal areas of Waziristan. We all know 30 year olds who act like they are 12, and vice versa. We even know that one’s biological age can be very different to one's ‘actual’ age. Depending on one’s diet and extra-cirricular habits, one’s body can be much older than the age. A 40 year old boxer will be younger than a 20 year old smoking, drinking, obese person.

So produce thy scientific rationale for taking age as thy weapon of choice for how you judge me, and I shall produce mine. Let us see who comes out on top.

For anyone feeling down because their ‘birthday’ means they are a ‘year older’, let us think carefully about the most effective ways of measuring people’s wisdom, maturity and effectiveness in society. I assure you, age has very little to do with it.

20 days a vegetarian, this journey has just begun

So I have gone many years without missing a day of meat.

In fact, for most of my life, I probably ate meat twice a day for as long as I can remember, and the days I didn’t were considered days I hadn’t eaten properly.

Things did change in uni…however, providing that background, here is my 20 day reflection of not touching meat or fish to raise money for Syria.

I have not raised much money since I started. In fact, I have not been transparent with my journey whatsoever. I have been waiting for my Huffington Post worthy moment of revelation where I exclaim to the world that I feel the pain of those who can’t afford meat, or how I entered a state of deep reflection about our over-consumptive habits, and that this journey of a lifetime has created a changed man, and isn’t that just touching enough to get some donations for a ridiculously important cause – nope, I’m pretty much ok.

I wanted this to be something it wasn’t. I’m not climbing Everest, or jumping out of a plane. I’m making an ordinary lifestyle choice for a temporary amount of time – it’s kinda mundane, to be honest.

This reflection won’t be all melancholy rainbows and butterflies though, so here’s where the garam masala comes in: I realized that I can be a vegetarian. I can give up meat if I wanted. I found it surprisingly more difficult to give up fish, but heck, I can do that too. In fact, when it comes to MY choices, I can do whatever I darn well please – but I choose to emphasise that point because more often than not, we enter our psychological blocks that hinder us from progressing beyond a certain point – whether it is an aspect of one’s personality, a dietary style, an addiction, an emotion; we have control of our own bodies and lifestyles.

It’s not always a breeze – sometimes it’s the hardest thing in the world – but it is possible.

So with this statement of the obvious, I was smacked with the realization of my shortcomings. Don’t get me wrong, it was a very welcome slap in the face, because the pain of humility is sweeter than the anguish of ignorance – but I was able to realize how my problems are my fault, and they can be changed by actions, or at the very least, my mindset. I get frustrated by the mentality of blaming the world for everything, and so this reminder from my 20 vegetarian days has been of great use.

Second, I feel better. I feel healthier, and for some odd reason, I’m eating less. I have often felt that eating meat leads me to eating more generally, as if it inhibits some appetite regulating hormone (ghrelin #knewgcsebiowouldcomeinhandy). Even when I started going to the gym again, I found that I had plenty of energy, and to my knowledge, I had sufficient protein for muscle recovery.

Third, I genuinely do feel that a majority vegetarian diet is healthier and more ethical to the planet. I would love to get to the stage where meat is an absolute delicacy in my life, and perhaps this challenge has brought me a step closer.

Lastly, this has all been for a sole cause. Syria. She is bleeding. Syria is in flames, and the only way to extinguish this inferno is for us to bring as many buckets of water as we can fathom. I am not even 10 percent of the way to the 5000 I have pledged.

Help me get there, and help them in any way you can. Syria

Miserly Slaves in a Temporally Technological World

Within a fraction of a moment, my life flashed before my very eyes

I do not hold on to material possession too much. If I lose money, or something of the sort, it ain’t the best day ever, but I know I’ll survive. I hold on to health very strongly. As long as my family, loved ones, and I are in good health, I consider the world to be sunshine and rainbows. However, my one Achilles heel is my work.

After attending a cousin’s wedding in Pakistan, I just finished transferring all the images and videos from my camera to my laptop as I was waiting at the airport. I was looking through the pictures, reflective and reminiscent over the last few days. It had been a great trip. I had even managed to fulfill a dream of mine; filming to produce a short video about a hospital that was built on the very back of my own grandfather, who founded an NGO in Pakistan to treat children suffering with Thalassemia.

Not five hours later, I arrived at the breezy Emirati airport that brought back warm memories. I raced home and slumped on my bed, flicking my laptop open for a casual email check.

- No libraries available. Create new library? - 

I tried to click on 'Cancel' but I was not allowed to. IPhoto was open and this horrifying message just blared at me, taunting my existence.

Say wha’? Where ma shindig at, yo? My heart sank; I looked for every possible solution as the realization that every picture and video I had taken for months had mysteriously disappeared. I was in disbelief for many reasons, I thought that  I must just be technologically impaired. Deleting 5 GB from my computer would at the very least take 5 seconds loading time, yet over 100GB of files had just been made entirely redundant. No online solution seemed to work, and a visit to the Apple stores brought some very consoling advice.

“Make sure you have a backup next time”

This was an anomaly. There was no explanation for this. Although a few more hours of research might have saved me some expense, 75 pounds and a computer shop acquaintance brought me back every last file.

This long-winded attempt at exposition made me reflect on a few things. Technology rules us. Sure, we can produce a chip the size of a fingernail that can hold our entire life but…. this is a chip the size of a fingernail that holds our entire LIFE! Information has become volatile. Memories have become fragile. Knowledge may have become more decentralized, yet in a sense, it is corruptible. Maybe I am misconstruing the situation, but all I know is, it’s sure as hell easier to lose Gigabytes worth of information than it is to lose a few hundred papers. We are dependant.

My grandfather, God preserve him and bring him joy and comfort, has all his contacts’ phone numbers in a chip far more powerful than any; he can regurgitate them by memory. I can barely remember my own. The great Sufi mystic, Imam Ghezali, was once robbed whilst in a caravan, and the one thing he begged the thieves not to pillage was his book collection. When one of the bandits jeered at him, remarking how knowledge has no value if it can be lost in a moment, Ghezali vowed to memorise any further knowledge he ever gained.

I started thinking of the difference between one who is knowledgeable, and one who is wise. Who is better? If one is able to apply knowledge, surely that is more useful than one who can blindly regurgitate knowledge. The wise will always be reliant on his sources though. The brilliant academic will still need to browse his libraries, and make the same Google searches as us laymen. What happens when Google makes a no show, and rare literature becomes impossibly difficult to find?

Sleepiness leads to pointlessness. These are but thoughts. Thoughts remain temporal.