Everything is always the matter with us. We are matter. Matter moving through energy. How old might I be after I write this? One day older in time and two leap years older in spirit? This overtly cranky year has aged me and filled my fountain of youth. Peevish has become an entire wardrobe such that it’s practically its own fashion line. We itch incessantly for all of the irascible illnesses to end. We pray for the petulant monsters to wake up in a Pixar kind of way. ‘Stop’ has been our most lucid conscious or unconscious mantra. We want to pause this sour ride for a pocket of the clock at least. Yet, I’ve also loaded my chipper with those woody scents of penetrating pines to homespun concoctions that soothe my senses into slumber, along with making my tummy protrude from well-fed means. We are rough drafts relentlessly. Our altering nature invites an abidance with training liberty.
The measure of an education is that you acquire some idea of the extent of your ignorance. ~Christopher Hitchens
If someone could have proposed the topic of merely being at our outset. I believe we’d all be cutting scads of slack off of ourselves. Whereas, lightening the tug of pointing blame at others in lieu of patching our own bruises. How we’re in progress even when we’re not progressing. How a morbid blow might turn into a bonanza of abundance or a once-asshole can later make your day. If anyone had just advanced us that the concept of 2020 was to stay cozied indoors working on oneself while connecting with the world at large from the tucked-in nest of our own sweet spaces that would have been finely placed intel. Instead, the planet went from a Chinese COVID-19 condition into a global catastrophe. Finding one’s agency amidst personal to pandemic collapse has some entertainment value if you’re willing to be worked a bit like Play-Doh. Even their slogan ‘Shape your imagination’ holds spacious prospecting for rephrasing our scripts.
We’re all so ready to kick into a new decade and leave this one to history. Often, it’s about allowing the dis-ease to knock around until we’re very sick of it. It’s the comparison tricks too ~ this person has it worse so I ought to consider how pretty I’m sitting or that another person does any of it better, faster, stronger, younger than me, so what am I doing with my life? Our 2020 has been an exercise of shoveling an endless pile of shit that you should know can make a beautiful garden if you give it time to grow. I keep avowing to prohibit the overwhelm train from pulling into my station. Lapses of rationale are effective tsunamis that crash our shores when the intellectual brain could sort away from the happening, albeit acts the addict jonesing on the next dose. Except that our tunnels of emotional turbulence are exactly the stance that signifies our manufacturing is set to deliver the goods.
Those completely bollocks on the brain moments are our best emergencies. What you choose has vibrations to dominate, disintegrate, disinfect, or support me. But, any acceptance of bullying can cease. When the vulgar edges invigorate you to rouse as the kid you used to be before you let humanity start to dictate over your essence. They are my cause to locate Christmas inside of anything anytime. A friend’s fluffiest pooch that resembles a stuffed animal I won’t tire of petting. The greetings of my simplest tendencies. That I was made for making love, talking existentialism, solving the opinion that there’s only one way, creating bonds, and spreading rumors of sweetness on every doorstep. These are emblematic of why I feel your hand in mine, despite whether I’ve ever had it there. I see your roughness and raise you one wondrous rumpus. We are in this movement together.
Conversations to relationships need not be invasive surgical procedures. Between the flames of 2020, I caught sight of countless accomplishments. They’ve reminded me to balance with our less developed arenas. How I still managed early on to check off visiting three bucket list countries of Thailand, Singapore, and Australia. That I may have added three new scars, but ended presently with zero cancer in the body. How I stood up on a surfboard more times than I can remember. Which I think is always a great sign you’re doing well at something when you’re a person who wants things to count and you’ve exceeded a number to recall implying that the numerical is so many, compared to so little, that you don’t need to reference it anymore! Seek original orgasms of your existence. One of my favorite efforts is when I let a Ferrero Rocher enter me. Satiate your soul the same as you spoil your belly.
May the sequence of your life pronounce profound elegance.