further musings on porosity of the mind

interspecies

 

blessed are the snail-hearted. yes,  the oozers who thrive on contact with the soil, who look up and see the underside of all the world running in circles above. blessed are those who can abide a bit of slime, who are using that slime as a catalyst for sensual input. slime  transmits, you know. for the sensual and the tactile are actual tools for our body, yes touch is medicinal of course and wellness without touch does not exist.

skin to skin contact is medicinal. skin to soil contact is medicinal. skin to fur, skin to stone, skin to bark. this input is nourishment that humans need to truly thrive. and in our culture we seem to be SO focused on the visual. most of us are overstimulated visually, with near-constant rapid- image-change and a barrage of billboards blocking our view of the sky. with headphones blasting digital beeps and boops while the CAW! of a crow, the PEEP! of a chickadee, the COO! of a pigeon go unnoticed, unrecognized. (or, perhaps, only recognized on special days devoted to birdwatching, with special binoculars, an id book and pants tucked into socks. )”yup, i’ve checked off another species on my to-do list.”

the sense of taste has been burned off by bleached food, by fake tastes (grape, my ass!) and in connection with the sorry state of our schnozzes–inundated with the horrors-the horrors! of “spring breeze” and “lavender fields” and “holiday bullshit” plug-ins, scented candles and dryer sheets.

TAKE IT BACK!!!!

people, our senses are all we have.

texture

 

our nose is an etremely important survival tool. it transmits signals to our brain from people, plants, animals, fungi, fire, decomposition, saltwater, breezes, poop, food, honeybees. culturally, we have disrespected our nose, treated its ability as an inconvenience which we can manipulate with chemicals in order to “catch a man”, create a “holiday mood”  or sell products.

moist

our worship of the visual comes at the expense of the nasal.

our worship of the fake comes at the expense of our hands, of our sense of touch, of our inborn drive for tactile contact with the world around us.

our worship of rock stars comes at the expense of knowing we are all rock stars.

our worship of pills comes at the expense of what our sense of taste can tell us, of how taste IS medicine.

building a fire is medicine, immersing ourselves in water is medicine.

take it back.

fluffy

 

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