Comedian Mike Birbiglia likes to joke that yoga is basically stretching while trying not to fart.

The joke works because it’s so recognizable: the effort of holding something in that feels unlovable, awkward, or inappropriate—yet is completely human.

This post, you guessed it, uses flatulence as a gateway to something deeper: what’s possible when we stop trying so hard to appear more put together. Because the real strain isn’t the feelings (or gases) that move through us; it’s what it costs us when we try to suppress them.

My dog, Walnut, is an expert in not suppressing herself.

This post didn’t originate in a power flow class after a bean-forward chili; it came from a dance festival this past weekend called Interfusion.

I was telling my friend Erik about the experience and shared the joy and connection I felt. But I also told him about the underbelly: sadness around women I connected with that didn’t quite work out the way I’d hoped, and judgment about how I spent my time and energy in the paradox-of-choice of events like these.

When Erik admitted he felt similar things, I saw the power of recognizing that an oxytocin-filled weekend could also be a place of sadness and anxiety: I felt less alone, and so did........

© Psychology Today