These last couple of months have been quite stressful. Generally, I try to have a semi-positive outlook on what’s to come. However, as my final degree performance for the MA is quickly upon me, I find myself worrying about things I cannot control…ever! During this month, my mantra has been: “I have control over my body. I have control over the compost. I don’t have control over anyone or anything else.”—at this time, at least.
Admittedly, I’ve been away from the soil for a while. Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve left cerebral-mode and decided to (literally) plunge my whole being into the earth in my rehearsal space at Uni. I have not been my best self; I have not been happy-go-lucky Ryan—perhaps I never was that person. hmmm? Being back in the compost, though, has alleviated a lot of tension in my heart and mind. I can’t really explain it any other way, but the soil is intoxicating in the most natural sense of that word. Touching it. Breathing it in. Lying down in it. I love it!
A couple of days ago, a friend sent me this article from a gardening know-how site: “Antidepressant Microbes in Soil: How Dirt Makes You Happy”. DING DING DING!
I’m a believer! There’s more to dirt than dirt!
I’m certainly not opposed to Dirty History making Dirty Happiness in September.