Constipation is not uncommon, especially in advanced age. The face is often a clear indicator of someone who is constipated and suffering—the agony is visible. I dread it. With all the stress and tension at work, this was not unexpected. I tried taking fiber supplements, which helped, but not significantly. So, I devised my own formula.

If you're in the USA, take prunes and drink plenty of water. In India, I make it a point to consume two bananas, Elaichi bananas at present, along with peanut cakes made with jaggery and raisins. It’s been working fairly well.

But my real concern was about the worries and anxieties that were constipating my mind. Where is the remedy for that? Are there mental prunes, mental raisins, or even mental fibers? One might wonder—at a retired and advanced age—what is there to worry about? But worries need no invitation, no welcome, no space. They arrive uninvited, unpaid guests. In fact, we pay for them with our health.

People often say, "Don’t focus on what’s bothering you; take your mind off it." A wonderful solution in theory. But every time I try to move away, I’m pulled back with double the force. My mind is so heavy with these unwanted yet unyielding worries that I don’t have the strength to lift them off.

Is there a solution I haven’t tried? You can worry about anything—even why there are no worries today. I tried music, audiobooks, watching cricket, and more. Yet my mind always drifts back. Meditation helps, but after several health setbacks, I have yet to resume it.

Then, the idea came from my nephew: write down whatever I’m thinking about, joking about when in a good mood, or even worrying about. That’s how this blog started.

Ever since, I’ve felt the weight slowly lifting, and my mind is gradually purging itself of clutter. That’s why these blogs may seem like trash or waste, but at least my mind is getting rid of it.

At last, I’ve found my solution. I write. I keep writing, without worrying if anyone will read, understand, or appreciate it. When I take medicine for a health issue, do I need anyone’s approval, appreciation, or understanding? So, what’s different when writing serves as medicine for the worries afflicting my mind?

I spend two to three hours each day typing, mistyping, correcting, reading, and appreciating my own work. It has wonderful cleansing properties.

Not that this would work for everyone, but can’t we each find an activity that helps us in a similar way?

Continued in 122. Tantra, Mantra, and Swatantra