Urine Therapy

Today marked my 144th day on Urine Therapy

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His name was Pablo Falcon, a Native American healer living in New Mexico. He was on a show called Human Urine-Elixir for Good Health? airing on the National Geographic Channel, showcasing an ancient healing tradition: the practice of drinking one’s own urine.
Yes, he drank his own urine; a cup a day, usually in the morning, catching the first stream in mid discharge.
He drank it straight, like a shot of whiskey, but sometimes sipped it like a hot toddy on a cold moonless night. It was Pablo Falcon’s preventative medicine-urine therapy, or uropathy.
I was young. That’s disgusting, I thought. Years later, I re-discovered Pablo’s delinquency, but until then I remained ignorant of my body’s golden elixir as though it was an enigma, hidden from the alchemy of health within a toxic world.
To others it’s tradition, but among a modernizing world tradition is perceived as primitive.
At The Mercy Of Sickness
Out in the world, I forgot about Pablo. I forgot about the ways of the warrior, the ways of the body, and its own powerful remedies.
I forgot about these things because I was falling apart. I was in India, and my body was aching, my head spinning, my nose divulging a sinewy greenness, my intestines constricting, my sphincter bleeding.
But I did not forget about Gandhi.
I was participating in the 75th anniversary of Mohandas K. Gandhi’s Salt March, and here I was falling apart, literally bleeding out of multiple orifices.
And what could I do? Whine? Complain? Go to a hospital because I wasn’t feeling well? The Peace Walk wasn’t about me, or about any of the other walkers from nine different nations. The Peace Walk was for those of India, and a universal Peace for Mother Earth and Her inhabitants.
A young Japanese living in Nepal came up to me. He was Morita and he saw through to my pain. The man I hardly knew handed me a plastic cup as we took lunch. “Take this,” he said in a hush. Around us others slept. “Go pee, and drink as much of it as you can.”
I was stunned. I had forgotten Pablo Falcon. I had forgotten my own body and its power. At that time, I was only cursing it. “What?”
“You want to get better?” Morita asked.
I nodded.
“Then pee and drink.”