Composting and Processing

Things have to be processed to break down into fertile soil that will nourish our best ideas.

I’ve been writing daily in notebooks I bound at my self-styled-studio-catsitting-residency in Seattle. The notebooks are one of the few things that I printed. I’d resolved not to watch television, to block out social media, and to walk in a park for an hour each day. I’m keenly aware of how overused “dissociating” is in my tool belt for dealing with our current reality. I had imagined that time alone would be a blank page full of possibility. In reality it often felt more like I was adrift in the open ocean.

Thoughts, memories, realizations I’d suppressed crashed over me, flooded through me, overwhelmed me. My 10+ item grocery list of “things I’ll complete” seems laughable now. I made dumplings with friends, I had a full day at the Korean spa with Amelia and I stuck to my daily park walks to ground myself. I just had a lot of… dealing with myself I’d put off?