Akaijen: 1, Scorpion: 1
So part of having a yoga practice is that you're really not supposed to kill things, even gross and/or scary things. I'm not a full vegetarian, but I really do try not to harm living things when it isn't necessary.
And I did feel pretty guilty after washing a 4-inch scorpion down the shower drain on the first day of my yoga teacher training in Costa Rica. Normally, I wouldn't think twice about having to do a dirty deed to rid my shower of a dangerous foe, and actually I didn't when I was doing it. But afterwards, as my teacher's "om" washed over us to signal the start of our session, I felt pretty crappy. My excuse is that I didn't really have a choice. That is until I realized there was a broom and a long-handled dustpan in my room.
I knew my karma was going to be totally out of whack.
The scorpions didn't avenge the death of their own until a week later -- enough time for me to become complacent in my several-times-a-day visual sweep of my jungle casita. It struck at 5:45am, assaulting my right pinky finger as I rummaged through my dirty laundry deciding what to hand wash that day. I saw the bugger scurry away, although I was already in too much pain and shock to notice exactly where.
I'm writing this story, so obviously I'm fine. The pain was acute and strong for about an hour before tapering off to a burning sensation when I touched the surface of my finger. By 8:30 that morning, it was all but forgotten. I'm actually very lucky that I didn't happen to be allergic to its poison. My tongue could have swollen and gone numb along with half my face. Still, I was about as keen to get stung again as I was to be mauled by jellyfish in Australia a few years ago.
I recruited reinforcements in the form of my new yogi friend, R. R, a valiant power yoga warrior, helped me rummage through all remaining dirty clothes. His broomstick down each pant leg strategy was brilliant although ultimately unsuccessful.
The battle ended in a draw a few days after B had arrived, adding another pair of eyes to my visual sweep rituals. I had been hand washing clothes in the sink, which some of you may not realize means rubbing pants legs together to remove sand and mud, scrubbing a t-shirt corner under the arm pit to remove layers of deodorant. This was hands on hand washing. My hands and half my arms had been all over those clothes in murky water.
I stepped away for a very short moment while my garments soaked. When I returned, I saw my nemesis, the size of a prawn, trying to claw it's way out of the corner of the sink. I could hear his crustacean-like legs and pinchers scraping the stainless steel basin. The mo-fo was big, around 6 inches including the tail. He was mostly light, almost translucent brown with dark black splotches. I can't believe I survived any battle with that thing. And what the heck was he still doing in my dirty laundry?
I handed B the broom and dustpan. The plan was to try to shoo him into the pan and take him outside, far from the duplex casita that we shared with W. Instead the scorpion clung to the hairs of the broom, his long stinger dangling and striking madly at the bristles. We'd have been in trouble if he'd decided to drop to the floor. Thankfully he didn't, and thankfully he didn't return after B wiped him onto a shrub down the hill from the house.
News travels fast among 30 people spending 8 hours or more a day together. Everyone wanted to know about the scorpion attack and my subsequent kitchen sink showdown. It was pointed out by W that just earlier in the week I had been IMing Dabysan about my desire to perfect my scorpion pose, an up-side-down arm balancing yoga posture that features ones feet dangling over ones own head - very Cirque de Soleil. W and R decided I was the Scorpion Queen, and they presented me with a dead scorpion-in-resin necklace, a trophy if you will.
Or, you could believe L who stayed in the same casita for a month the year before. She also encountered more scorpions than anyone in her group. L believes that the house is infested with them, and is probably sitting atop a colony. She may not be far off for in W's bathroom light fixture was a grim reminder of who will ultimately win the war. Imagine brushing your teeth with the eery shadow of dead scorpion cast across your face.
Comments