Space Poo.

I’ve been experiencing too much stress lately. It’s hard to turn my eyes away from the government shit show, for one. Then there is the struggle to make money and keep up with bills. The heartbreak of unrealized dreams. And have you ever been in a relationship? It’s hard work!

Being a yoga teacher I have a critic in my psyche that reminds me of all the tools I have to deal with my anxieties. Whenever my anger rises, they tell me I should know better. What if my students saw me acting like this? Imposter!

Let go. Let go. Let go. Don’t forget to breathe.

My therapist friend left me a voice message the other day. He is working with the idea of visualizing himself as an ancestor in the future.

“What are the qualities we want to pass on?”

In my “spiritual” circles there is lots of talk of ancestors. We honor them, give them thanks, yada yada. Many of them were probably not so great. Go back far enough and they were primates throwing shit at each other. The dawn of social media.

Certainly I can pass on better qualities than the feces I can fling. That’s what keeps me from writing much about our current president. He is the worst example of human I have ever witnessed, but saying his name gives him power. Wishing him misfortune doesn’t create a good example for future generations.

I don’t have any children so I won’t have any blood relations moving into the future. I am the end of this line. No great grandchildren looking back to learn about me. No genetically connected seekers in an Ayahuasca ceremony honoring me with prayers, or purging the traumas I passed down into a bucket.

Instead I think of my Substack readers. You are my literary tribespeople. I hope you will be here after I’m gone.

Still, who knows how long these words in the cloud will last? Someday the sun will expand out and swallow the Earth. Maybe by then humans will have spread across the cosmos, throwing space poop at other life forms.

I have been a little whiny in my writing lately. Or is it authenticity? I’m not sure, it seems like a blurry line when I look through these old man eyeballs. I have demons to exorcise, or exercise.

My sincere hope is to write in a way that helps you out. Maybe through laughter. Maybe through identifying an aspect of your own humanity. Maybe by giving you a unique perspective.

There’s a perfectionist in me who has been keeping me from writing. I don’t have enough time to write the post that solves all the world’s problems. Who am I to think I can?

I do have a handful of paid subscribers. The substack gold. I appreciate you. I am recommitting to writing more often. Maybe I can move the mountain one cupful of dirt at a time.

The perfect is the enemy of the good.

I’m going to start writing like an insurgent. Stealing time and writing a stream of thought. Right now I’m at a coffee shop thumb typing on my phone while waiting for a dentist appointment. I brought my toothbrush so I don’t feel so much shame when I show up with coffee breath and spinach between my teeth.

Next time you feel like tossing a turd, stop for a moment and consider the future generations. The ones who have been perfected by AI based child care, and are living with quantum computers embedded in their tissues. Or imagine different ancestors. Maybe you have flesh and blood children who will procreate and fill the Ayuasca circles of the future with buckets of trauma.

Stop for a moment, take a deep breath. Take several. Hold on to your shit. Flush when necessary. Think before you pass something on that will burden someone else.

BTW, I love you, whoever your are. Thanks for reading to the end. I’m gonna try to do this every week. No promises. No shit.