My annual post, it seems. My identity is either leaking into interstices everywhere or dissipating into insanity. Interesting thought that, by western tradition, 'letting go' of isolated, encapsulated identity, one 'loses' one's mind. In fact, it feels quite the opposite (isn't that what all the loonies say?). Not Napoleonic or narcissistic, though, more like taking a deep breath of joy and freedom, creativity and imagination, safety and abundance. From dirt to caves to grasses to cows to machines to ideas to ... where do we go next, as we untether ourselves more and more from the clay? And yet, those dirty days are so nourishing. Is that a regressive impulse for security? Or is it a necessity for mental health? Oh, don't get me started on mental health. The definition is so wrapped up in social statistics of normalcy that it must be dynamic. As people and cultures adapt, so must our definitions. Not to discard the old but to assimilate it as we evolve.

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