Anger, joy, sadness, love, hate, empathy, disappointment, hope, all these emotions vying for attention and air time cause me to pause. Amid the deluge streaming through devices and people, I sat down and became still. These feelings transformed into an overgrown garden choked on itself and poisoning the soil from which it was grown. My slow, deliberate, virtual hands began to sort through them. I touched each emotion, stroked their leaves, inhaled their scents, and tore them out by the roots. It was not easy or painless. They had deep, strong roots. Some had thorns and others such exquisite beauty that tearing them up hurt, pierced my skin, and wracked by spirit. But it had to be done because I want to know the dirt; to understand the soil and everything in it.
When the garden patch was bare, I soaked into it; let it take me down. In the soil there were no emotions because dirt is indifferent. It does not care whether we bleed, cry, sweat, or urinate, all it wants is to be wet and be reworked into everything else. This pure mineral desire nurtured my virtual self because it is the feeling beneath emotion. The less I felt, the more I began to understand the desires of dirt. All I wanted was to be wet and reworked into something else. I became pure desire and indifferent. Slowly or all at once, I was reworked into myself again and began to rise from the ground.
As I stood up and stepped back into this world of animal emotion, I began to laugh and to weep. I watched my tears soak into the dirt and it was good. One day, I will become dirt again and I will embrace indifference. Until then, I will shoulder every emotion, replant the garden, and revel in our feelings.