Mad World
Love and light, or fear and slight?
I’m going to blog. Are we allowed to blog on Medium? I dunno. I don’t think I care. It’s been well past a year since I’ve frequented this platform, and wholly shit if we even try to kid ourselves that rules apply anymore, global pandemic and all. So forget coherence and cohesiveness. I’m not here to slowly and painstakingly sculpt myself into a writer. I’m a writer, and I’m also not a writer. I will always, always find calm and clarity in the written word, but I accept that I will not be an influential writer, not one, at least, that runs myself ragged trying to fit inside the tidy little writer box I imagined I needed to fit in to succeed (whatever that even means).
So I’m here writing, because I’ve literally just finished a year of herbal studies, and I while I still have a plant thesis to research and write, I’m defying all my type A gnawing compulsion to keep working, and instead am exploring the possibility of how it might feel to take the summer off of my studies. No more textbooks to read, which isn’t to say I haven’t enjoyed the content of the past year, but oh how it’s put into perspective so, so many things about my path as an herbalist, just as the past year has revealed so, so many things about this precarious planet we live on.
(I promised no coherence, and I shall deliver.)
