Call it intuition though I have a suspicion that as a human that “feels it,” or at least pieces of it, sometimes, after years of looking into the mirror of existence and smiling back anyway, it becomes harder to keep “taking it.” It starts to hurt. So we ask ourselves, “What-can-we-do what-can-we-do what-can-we-do,” and sometimes it feels like we keep pulling up with nothing, wondering how much further we can go without gas?

This is the cry of the dolphins Douglas Adams sang, those who riddle a way to survive and keep going, keep showing up, even while sensing more than we should or maybe even want to, even though we can pattern out how things could change, if only our Hope could multiply as exponentially as war crimes. Our intuition has saved our skins repetitively, forced us to adapt to a reality that constantly shifts, led us to the hell or heaven of our choice in a noisome world. Our souls may have gotten a little burnt too close to fires, trying to stay warm. More often than not, we burn out trying to keep the fires lit for others. That’s who we are.

We are the inbetweeners, the sperm whales and petunias who just can’t seem to give up. We can’t stop saying, “Fucknofudamnitnotagain… k, let’s do this anyway!” It’s just our way, even when it feels like we’re banging out the same old… Old. We’re the adapters, the innovators, the survivors who manage to hold down a smile because we’ve made what we’ve lived through a series of always questioning what’s #WorthIt, a chain of ROI equations to know the probabilities of the investment to whatever it is we’re getting ourselves up to to keep from being relentlessly bored, because giving up isn’t in our programming. Whatever “survival of the fittest” explanation most think about, Darwin had it right: beyond fight or flight, we have the ability to improvise, adapt, overcome. We just sometime forget amidst all the noise. We sculpted a way to our own peace, and the thing that breaks it is… the lack of peace in the rest of the populace. So, we keep trying to bring peace to the table, even though so many scorn it and call it poison.

I have a theory. It does involve bunnies, but in a very observational way. Those who live between the lines sometimes forget how to shut their eyes, so it becomes a game to not miss a thing, always running. And sometimes, we become turtles, tuck ourselves in and hide away.

Wait. Watch. Wonder.

Don’t get bored. Switch the tune up; drown out the noise. If the sweater’s too tight, take it off. If the air is too thick, go outside. Take a breath. Sometimes I can’t leave the city, so I have to do it in my head. Sometimes I have to scream and it comes out as a song we all have sung at least once before, even if we didn’t know the words. We’ve sustained ourselves in echoes of crumbs to keep fires burning, gladly sharing our hearths, and sometimes we can’t switch water to wine, but the fire’s always warm.

The Universe knows how to balance itself. Sometimes, it calls on the dreamers, the creators, the musicians, to switch up the verse. To orchestrate a harmony so deeply ohm, we no longer worry about bombs. Would it soothe to say I feel songs are changing, that the world is waiting to greet us and say, once again, fearless, intrepid, as only a world can say with resilience: ““Fucknofudamnitnotagain… k, let’s do this anyway!” though this time, we’re making it count, creating hiFy vibes in Web3. You up?

#AgeOfResonance

#FollowTheMusic

#LoveShowsUp

Call it intuition though I have a suspicion that as a human that “feels it,” or at least pieces of it, sometimes, after years of looking into the mirror of existence and smiling back anyway, it becomes harder to keep “taking it.” It starts to hurt. So we ask ourselves, “What-can-we-do what-can-we-do what-can-we-do,” and sometimes it feels like we keep pulling up with nothing, wondering how much further we can go without gas?

This is the cry of the dolphins Douglas Adams sang, those who riddle a way to survive and keep going, keep showing up, even while sensing more than we should or maybe even want to, even though we can pattern out how things could change, if only our Hope could multiply as exponentially as war crimes. Our intuition has saved our skins repetitively, forced us to adapt to a reality that constantly shifts, led us to the hell or heaven of our choice in a noisome world. Our souls may have gotten a little burnt too close to fires, trying to stay warm. More often than not, we burn out trying to keep the fires lit for others. That’s who we are.

We are the inbetweeners, the sperm whales and petunias who just can’t seem to give up. We can’t stop saying, “Fucknofudamnitnotagain… k, let’s do this anyway!” It’s just our way, even when it feels like we’re banging out the same old… Old. We’re the adapters, the innovators, the survivors who manage to hold down a smile because we’ve made what we’ve lived through a series of always questioning what’s #WorthIt, a chain of ROI equations to know the probabilities of the investment to whatever it is we’re getting ourselves up to to keep from being relentlessly bored, because giving up isn’t in our programming. Whatever “survival of the fittest” explanation most think about, Darwin had it right: beyond fight or flight, we have the ability to improvise, adapt, overcome. We just sometime forget amidst all the noise. We sculpted a way to our own peace, and the thing that breaks it is… the lack of peace in the rest of the populace. So, we keep trying to bring peace to the table, even though so many scorn it and call it poison.

I have a theory. It does involve bunnies, but in a very observational way. Those who live between the lines sometimes forget how to shut their eyes, so it becomes a game to not miss a thing, always running. And sometimes, we become turtles, tuck ourselves in and hide away.

Wait. Watch. Wonder.

Don’t get bored. Switch the tune up; drown out the noise. If the sweater’s too tight, take it off. If the air is too thick, go outside. Take a breath. Sometimes I can’t leave the city, so I have to do it in my head. Sometimes I have to scream and it comes out as a song we all have sung at least once before, even if we didn’t know the words. We’ve sustained ourselves in echoes of crumbs to keep fires burning, gladly sharing our hearths, and sometimes we can’t switch water to wine, but the fire’s always warm.

The Universe knows how to balance itself. Sometimes, it calls on the dreamers, the creators, the musicians, to switch up the verse. To orchestrate a harmony so deeply ohm, we no longer worry about bombs. Would it soothe to say I feel songs are changing, that the world is waiting to greet us and say, once again, fearless, intrepid, as only a world can say with resilience: ““Fucknofudamnitnotagain… k, let’s do this anyway!” though this time, we’re making it count, creating hiFy vibes in Web3. You up?

#AgeOfResonance

#FollowTheMusic

#LoveShowsUp