Deer Head

My naturopath told me to stand on my head for several minutes a day to relieve the pains from my impacted bowels.

"Stand on my head?" I asked her. "That would kill me." But she wasn't talking about decapitation, rather, the act of reversing yourself, and using the top of your head as feet.

"O.k. naturopath," I told her, "I'll stand on my head."

I like doing my headstands, and other physical activity, at the local gym since the smell reminds me of my primitive ancestors. The ventilation is highly inadequate and the air contains asbestos, thereby probably causing more harm than good to your lungs during a workout. It's in the basement of a building so concrete columns are visible and in some parts gravel acts as floor. Where the lighting is less, beyond the chain link fences and mounds of gravel, and asbestos warning signs, seeing a construction worker is not uncommon. They hide in the darkness, with coffee and donuts and watch as the ladies jog by in their short shorts on the indoor rubber brick track that circles the weight and cardio equipment. Construction workers are not the only curious creatures down there. There are also children, brought in from their various schools to learn the art of archery.

Usually I would have done my headstands in the archery range, which is delineated by semi translucent fabric cloths that can withstand the impact of an arrow, but the children were there, and shooting. Instead of aiming at a regular circle target, however, they were shooting at a stuffed deer head. He wore a small rack of antlers on his head, and some joker had strung a necklace of pearls around his neck. Since there was no body, something barrel chested was made, without limbs, and was wrapped in tinfoil. Most of the children were aiming for the eyes of the beast, and exploded into glee if someone hit one. Their little eyes shone of the devil, and high fives were exchanged. The ones in charge wore smiles and congratulated the archers on their prowess.

Since the range was being occupied I had to do my headstands where all the mats were, them stinking of other peoples sweat and shoes. Now more people could see me upside down and they would think I was smiling at them. It wasn't the people, though, that I was afraid of. The high pitched laugh of the little ones still rang in my ears and their little evil eyes still circled in my mind.

But they were just children. I was a man. A grownup. Despite telling myself this I was a bit shaky erecting myself upside down. Once I was steady and standing on the top of my head, my confidence grew, my fears disappeared and the pains in my bowels started to ease. Just when I had my smile on, I heard the one in charge saying the children would have to leave.

Should I forfeit headstand position on account of some kids? My confidence was at a peak and the answer was no. I watched as they walked passed. The instructor pointed me out, and the children slowed as they walked passed, their attention now focused on me. Their gaze, I imagine, would be the same ones they wore when seeing that stuffed deer for the first time: a mix of curiosity and destruction. Each one looked at either my right or my left eye with particular interest; picturing their arrows victorious in my eyes, probably. Well I wouldn't let that happen. Impacted colon or not, when the adrenalin kicks in I conjure a bounce in my step.

It was only seconds between headstand position and pointy-arrow-wielding death stance. The children, chickens all of them, including the instructors, screamed and ran with what have must have been their lives. They must not have known the Death Stance is a defensive tactic. Watching them run promoted feelings of well being in myself, so I rewarded myself with two whole chickens upon my return home.

My colon is still impacted, but my courage is not.