Pink Tutu’s Float Oceanic Puddles of Plastic

I imagine with the way society has progressed the last decade or so, we are not far off from our first toddler suicide, and you know once the seals broken – look out! Just because my baby suicide prescience is strong, it does not mean I lack optimism. Mentioning the perpetual list of awful occurrences from melting ice caps to 100 degrees in Siberia, to pedophile royalty to teenage sex trafficking, beyond the aforementioned would be a gratuitous act; even the people under the rocks are aware: their rocks are underwater – they know. Okay, I lied, but only because this next thing is so fascinating: I’ve heard of the swirling vortex of debris in the Pacific Ocean for years, but I just learned one, well two, interesting facts about it: 1.) It has a name: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch (What a PC fucking name! It sounds like a rustic vacation spot); 2.) It covers an estimated surface area of 1.6 million square kilometers, an area twice the size of Texas or three times the size of France (Où sont des toilettes? Je voudrais acheter un billet aller simple.) 

Oddly enough, I find it impressive above all other rational responses to such a gross disrespectful display of gluttonous neglect – truly miraculous! If I learned one thing as a result of the last two years, it is this: people should no longer be allowed to throw around the common phrase, “I can’t believe…” If you cannot believe in this day and age, an era overflowing with acts and events so atrocious, that I can’t believe there is not an award show celebrating these tremendous feats. But no one is really going to change, and even if we did, how the earth experiences time versus how humans experience time, is perhaps the greatest analogy for relativity. (Yes, probably the greatest! Thank you, Thank you!!! Please send the flowers and chocolates to….) – {the ever elusive period after an ellipsis (four periods in a row) Nailed it!} And I have turned a corner on the matter. None of this is our fault. If this is our fault, then it is the dog’s fault for shitting on the carpet, the elephant’s fault for stamping a child’s birthday party. Like Chris Rock said about the tiger that mauled Roy Horn (of Sigfried and Roy), “…that tiger didn’t go crazy; that tiger went tiger!” We’re just humans going human. 

I say embrace this, all of it. What a wonderful time to experience the beginning of the end – all things are cyclical. And when I say end, I don’t mean ‘the end times,’ it is just the end of a particularly fruitful period of time – it may last another 100 years, but I doubt it (at least not for me and you). There’s cadres of wealthy nobles who’ve been growing and/or stealing babies to consume as sustenance, and their bones to whittle jewelry. And that is also fine. These horrible things do not detract from the beauty accessible to most of us every day: sunrise, sunset, night sky, full moon, etc. If anything, we should understand the fleeting nature of gratitude and its importance for nurturing interpersonal relationships and spiritual growth. I had it all wrong for years: I spent most of my life fighting myself and allowing the world to eat me alive. Of course, I may be completely off on this matter, but at least I feel as though I am entering a place of self-surrender. By surrendering, I gain fortitude and strength. And with a little fortitude and strength, I am better equipped to accept myself and the world exactly for what they are: perfectly imperfect things and locations to actively participate in while taking advantage of our most valuable asset: time. 


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