Fermented thoughts and probiotic emotions…

There are days when I watch us go by, every sort and type and variety. The rainbow of life sparkles on certain days, and my heart expands in my chest as I observe the love people grow, the joy people share. Eyes opening wide with fascination, curious and anxious, dare I make eye contact? I walk into the crowd, eager to feel the shared energy, eager to meet people where they are, eager to exist as a community, eager to not be afraid of my brothers and sisters.  

Then there are days when the observation is more reflection, and I recoil at the inner demons I hold dear, seeing mine in theirs. Seeing the possibility of evil versus good is a divided equal, we all have the same chance of choosing the Force or the Dark Side, and I am disgusted by my own human nature seen in those around me. 

There are also days when the observation just becomes too much in general. The wider scope of society and the grip we hold on the earth, the viciousness with which we fight to kill, the fury with which we hide our secrets. Historical atrocities repeating and repeating, the global throttle on equality a cavern of ignorance, so shameful I wince at being called human. 

Astrology, astronomy, kismet, fate, prophecy, luck, whatever way you wish to label it, my spirit and soul seek the balance of all this chaos. It’s like walking and running at the same time. It’s like swimming and flying with one arm's width. It’s like jumping, and sinking into the earth and into being human, all at once. We are everything and everywhere. The movies have got that part right, at least. 

Some days it makes me hungry, it makes me nauseous, it makes me feel obliged to feel at all, it makes the taste bitter sweet and sour all in one swallow, being human is the worst, and the best. And some days reflect all sides found in the gem cut of mortality, so many faces to face, so many reflections, so many observations, so many humans. And in one heaving exhale, I have love and distaste for it all. Balanced like a recipe, like a sonnet, like a geometric shape. The growth, and the rot. Fermenting thoughts and probiotic emotions. 

Hops on the trellis, Mead, WA