My big adventure today was a visit to my periodontist. This ordeal usually begins with a long sit on my meditation cushion, followed by some inspirational reading like, The Places That Scare You, and absolute and total silence in the car on the 45 minute drive there as I practice mental nadi shodhana.
I don’t know if he knows that I know what those “pocket numbers” he calls out to his assistant mean, but I do. I pray for the LOW ones: 2.2, or 3.2, and fear the high ones: no 6s, and god forbid if he calls a 7, I immediately begin ujayii pranayam.
Today he tapped each tooth with his little silver mallet, slid the measuring tool casually along my gum line, told me last year’s surgery still looked strong, complimented me on my “beautiful hygiene,” and wants to see me again in September.
As I sat in the car afterwards, breathing normally, adjusting the air conditioning and locating my sunglasses, I happened to look up at the house next door to his office and noticed that it had ornamental dentils underneath its eaves.
Dentils. How appropriate.