Shit collecting it’s a path to eternity

I’ve read that George Bush said that he positively acknowledged his change of status when seeing himself going after his dog with a little plastic bag in his hand.
Some of us never attributed to George an higher status, but this is not the point.

Point is that since coming back from Niger, I am in a similar situation, and this provides a lot of food for thought.
On the one hand, this is a powerful humility exercise, by means of which we are probably gaining wisdom.
On the other one, it emphasizes the lack of confidence we have with our most intimate production, always reserved to special places, forbidden to touch, to speak of, to think about.
This topic is well symbolised by the sad environment which, in this Bruxelles, most apartments offer for transitions: narrow, sombre, undecorated, as it should be the place for contrition and penance.
Medical analysis give another example of this difficult relation with ourselves, following the spread of aseptic pots.  Now paper bandages are delivered, to stick to the toilet in order to depose the fruit of digestion. As if simpler methods were not at hand.

On the ground of experience with my dog, I can release one suggestion to mankind: deploy a plastic bag before action, this will facilitate the operation afterwards.


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