This is what I got the other day from my friend Nicolas out of the blue:

They say that for a one year old child the simple act of shitting is as significant as it is for a chicken to lay an egg or for an artist to create a work of art.

Knowing this, it is amazing that in so many cultures shitting is associated with “bad” and dirty and shameful and private. There seems to be a serious “software” problem.

How can we build positive connection with ourselves if we constantly devalue what is coming out of us?

We seriously need to change our attitude towards shit. We need to “repositivize” the fruit of our bellies, as much as we need to attach positive association to all other unnecessarily biased and negative conceptions.

How to go about?

Build good experiences!

This is how you should do it at home...

This is how you should practice at home…

Follow these instructions:

Imagine you urgently have to shit. Imagine, it is really pressing hard inside of you! You are in hostile environment. No toilets around, people everywhere, you really need help!!!

Now, cut!

Change of scenery…

You still urgently need to shit. But this time you are in a lush forest. You just found the right spot. You turn over a stone and find a nice little ditch in the soil. You even see an earthworm disappear in a hole. You unbutton your trousers and squat over the ditch. The sun is shining and the soft vegetation around you is emanating amazing fragrances. The birds are singing.

You get so excited that you can’t shit anymore!

But you calm down, loosen up completely and then it is coming out of you like thunder after the lightning!

Then you suddenly have to pee. You let the water flow as if from a fountain. You listen to it and your body feels so good and relieved.

“Suddenly you begin to feel cold around your buttocks. You stand up, pull the trousers up, turn the stone over the ditch. Nobody but you knows what just happened. So you just enjoy.

Mmmmm, this wonderful smell of the earth…”

by Nicolas Barth (edited by Nara Petrovič)

This way, please!

This way, please!

A man of my kind! This is advanced fecology, indeed!

Not because it is so difficult to comprehend or do. But because of our lack of capacity to enjoy the little things that are directly related to our humanness. We were taught to feel ashamed of our own shit — even indoctrinated, or worse, brainwashed.

Why should shit be obscene? Why do we see it as disgusting, repulsive and awful?

It is our basic creation, our art, our service to the plants on which we depend.

In my book Human Being — Instructions for Use I write:

“Humans share defecation with animals more than any other bodily function. In passing stool animals and humans are really a kin. Sitting on a ceramic seat elevates you no more to humanity than wearing glasses makes you scholarly or wearing a tie makes you civil.

“If indigenous people from a few hundred years ago saw how we flush our stool and urine down hundreds of miles of pipes (along with toilet paper produced from fallen trees), they would find this  insane.

“How does human-animal defecate in nature? He casually digs a hole in the layer of fallen leaves, in thick grass, or on a molehill, and defecates in that hole. Urine flows of to a patch of organic mass in front of him. In the end he covers the hole with soil, straw, leaves or something else that’s handy at the moment. Just below the soil surface the stool has the best possible natural conditions for gradual decomposition among aerobic and anaerobic bacteria.

Meanwhile in India:

Stairways to heaven!

Stairway to heaven…


No stairway, just hell...

No stairway… just plain hell.

Isn’t this so much better:

The first "shit pit" I made at my home.

The first “shit pit” I made at my home.

Writing about fecology made me remember a joke I heard a long time ago. I think it will round up this blog post perfectly 🙂 :


Ricky came home wasted drunk and lay down by Marry who’s already been asleep.

He suddenly woke up and saw a strange man standing by the bed wearing a long white cloak.

“Who are you?” asked Ricky.

“I am Saint Peter.”

“Does it mean I am dead?”


“But I have so many reasons to live! I haven’t said good by to my family. You have to send me back right now!”

Saint Peter said: “OK, you can re-incarnate, but I can only send you back as a dog or as a chicken.”

“Then let me be a chicken. There is a farm right next to our house.”

Saint Peter clapped his hands and there was a flash of light.

Ricky realized he was covered in feathers pecking around the courtyard.

A rooster came by and said: “So, you’re the new hen? Are you enjoying your first day here?”

“It’s great, but I have this strange feeling inside. I feel like I am going to explode.”

“Ah, you’re just ovulating. That’s nothing. Don’t tell me you’ve never laid an egg? If you have never done this just relax and allow it to go down its way.”

Ricky relaxed and a few moments later an egg popped out of him.

Gracefulness overtook him; he never felt motherhood before. When he laid the second egg he got totally carried away by a wave of emotions. It felt great to be reincarnated! To become a hen was the best thing that could ever happen to him. The sensation was fabulous.

Just as he was about to lay the third egg he felt a strong slap on the neck. He heard Marry screaming: “Get up you fucking sot! You’re shitting in the bed!”